This Never Happened
by JudeCairnsmom
Summary: What happens when lingerie buyer Stephanie Plum attends a friend's wedding and meets Capt. Carlos Manoso, about to ship out on a dangerous mission? It starts out as a one-night stand, but before long, it's a lot more! Warning: smut & adult language.
1. Chapter 1

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

**THIS NEVER HAPPENED**

By Jude

Chapter 1

"If he moves that sad little sock puppet of his any closer to me, I swear to God I'm going to show him how much damage 4 inch stilettos can really do," I guaranteed my giggling companions as we watched the almost naked male dancer gyrate in what had to be the absolute worst attempt to turn a woman on that I'd ever seen in my 26 or so years.

Not that I've been the object of that many men trying to turn me on, mind you. Sadly. And certainly not lately: I'd been off men completely since my 5 minute marriage to that primo horse's ass Dickie Orr had gone sour after I'd caught him boinking my life-long nemesis and champion skank Joyce Barnhardt on our dining room table. I hadn't had an orgasm in a dog's age…an old dog, at that. And frankly, it didn't look like that was going to change anytime soon. Nope, men were pond scum, not to be trusted in a relationship; I'd learned that the hard way. But, hell, I admit I'd kinda been looking forward tonight to seeing a really hunky well-endowed guy up close and personal as he strutted his stuff in just one step above his birthday suit. My hormones weren't dead, after all; they were just on a very long sabbatical.

My name, by the way, is Stephanie Plum. Formerly Orr, but thankfully the papers I'd received from my attorney yesterday had legally wiped that unfortunate chapter out of my life and restored my maiden name to me once and for all. I'm 5'7", with an unmanageable riot of curly brown hair, blue eyes, and a Hungarian-Italian ancestry that I readily admit is truly scary. I might be unlucky in the men department, but Life had blessed me with my Hungarian genes which had allowed me (thus far) to indulge in my passion for junk food and sweets without hauling the results around on my ass. From what my Grandma Mazur tells me, that blessing lasts only until age 40, so I'm still safe for another 14 years. That's a lot of TastyKakes and Pino's pizza; but since I'm giving up men, I intend to make the most of my genetic advantage. Hey, a girl's gotta live a little, right?

I'm currently employed as a lingerie buyer for EE Martin in Newark, NJ, and my companions this evening were a dozen or so of my female co-workers. While the job isn't anywhere near as sexy or exciting as it may sound to some, it pays the bills just fine and allows me to rent my own one bedroom apartment in Chambersburg where I grew up. EE Martin is a far cry from Victoria's Secret, another addiction of mine. I spend my days haggling over the price of nylon panties and dealing with guys who are hoping to get into mine. Not happening, either before or after Dickie Orr. Nope, like I said: I'm steering clear of the male population for the next 20 years or so. They just aren't to be trusted. But damn, I'd still hoped to get myself a floor show tonight of what all I'd been missing out on. _Damn hormones!_

The pasty-skinned stripper--now down to only a black satin g-string and wiggling desperately--was truly pathetic. No muscles. Not a very impressive package either, as my over-sexed Grandma Mazur would say. Whoever the hell had hired him for this bachelorette party ought to be shot for her efforts. I had strong suspicions who that was, but that was neither here nor there. A dozen of us had all contributed $75 each to the office kitty to fund what was supposed to be a really great bachelorette party for our well-liked office manager Stella Markowitz. Clearly we'd gotten hosed for our efforts. Not the first time, unfortunately. Wouldn't be the last, either.

Let me assure you that I can appreciate a nearly naked man gyrating in front of my face just fine, thank you very much. Just not this particular guy--no matter how drunk I might get or how hormonal I happened to be at the moment. Nope, this damned fool was about as appealing to me as watching my old high school history teacher Elroy McFurkle strip. Hell, for all I knew, this could well be good old Elroy's progeny: I could kind of see the resemblance in the beady eyes and the nerdy vapid face, now that I thought about it. Good God Almighty, that was more than scary!

"I need another drink," I blurted suddenly, shaking my head to drive out the unwelcome picture. Thoughts of Elroy in a g-string were enough to make me want to toss my cookies, and now every time I looked at this guy I was gonna have that picture burned into my poor brain. "Anyone heading to the bar for a refill?"

"Nah, I'll pass this time around," said my long time EE Martin co-worker Tina as she took another sip of her martini and rolled her eyes long-sufferingly, "Hey? Question for you, Stevie. Do you think we can slip him dollar bills to put his clothes back _on_?"

"Try it, couldn't hurt any." I advised. Hell, I'd contribute $20 to that cause myself.

"Geez, Louise! Is this guy the absolute dregs or what?" Stella, our petite no-longer-bubbly bride-to-be wailed unhappily as she flounced over to our table, "I swear, this just plain _sucks_! I get probably the one opportunity of my entire life to get a hot stud muffin peeling his clothes off especially for me, and instead of a Johnny Depp or Brad Pitt look-a-like, Gladys picks a guy who could double for Drew Carey. What the fuck kind of a bachelorette party _is_ this, anyway?"

"I _knew_ it was Gladys," I snorted, rising unsteadily to my feet and grabbing my bag, "Bitch! She probably spent our money in Atlantic City and asked one of her loser cousins to fill in tonight. Probably told him he was a sure thing to get laid."

"Not even if I'd had a dozen of these. I'm horny, but I'm not desperate," Tina waved her martini glass at me, wiggling her eyebrows like Groucho Marx. We all broke out laughing. "Go, go, get your refill and get back before he takes anything else off."

"Threaten me with that visual, sister, and I'll stay gone," I warned, giving her a quick wink, "Expect me when you see me. I'm strongly considering calling it an early night."

"Not fair," came a chorus of replies, "If we have to suffer, you do too."

"We'll see about that," I laughed, "I feel a headache coming on." I headed out the door and ambled towards the hotel's bar. I really really didn't want to go back inside to the party; I just wasn't in the mood any longer. I checked my watch, debating a trip upstairs to my room for the night. The wedding was tomorrow afternoon, so we'd booked a block of rooms in the hotel for a long weekend. After this bust of a party, I was looking forward to a long relaxing soak in the tub and a good Pay Per View movie. With Johnny Depp or Brad Pitt--or hell, _anyone_ but Drew Carey. EEEEUUU. My poor eyes.

Still undecided on whether to stay or go, I parked myself on a stool and waited to catch the busy bartender's attention. I didn't have to wait long: I was wearing a tight red dress that showed my figure off to perfection and revealed long tanned legs that were drawing very appreciative stares from several of the men in the vicinity. I ignored them; hell, they were probably married and--like Dickie had been during our brief marriage--just out looking for a booty call. Creeps!

"What can I get you, pretty lady?" the bartender gave me the once-over. He wasn't bad looking, but he wasn't my type so I didn't give him more than a polite smile.

"Chocolate martini, please."

"You got it," he grinned, and set to work efficiently making my current favorite drink. I couldn't hold my liquor worth a damn, and this was my third--or was it my fourth?--of the night. At this rate I would be lucky not to be so hung over for the wedding that I'd have a hard time hauling my ass out of bed in the morning. _Whatever._

I gave a long sigh and considered my now empty ring finger. It didn't seem that long ago since I myself had been a bride-to-be happily anticipating spending the rest of my life as Mrs. Richard Orr, making my mother euphoric at the thought that I'd landed a good catch and would soon start churning out her long-desired grandchildren. Not that I'd ever really considered myself mother material, mind you. It was just what was expected in the Burg; all my friends had been settling down at that age, as well. It just had never occurred to me not to do the same. _And look how well that turned out_, I reminded myself.

What a prime A fool I'd been to trust the bastard. The ink hadn't dried on our marriage license before I caught him cheating--in our own house yet! Well, at least I hadn't gone quietly. Nope. I was single handedly responsible for making Dickie Orr persona non grata at his stuffy law firm and sinking every opportunity he'd ever have of stepping up the ladder in future--as well as torching his planned foray into the political arena. The Burg grapevine had been focused on us for months, and by the time I'd finished with The Dick, he'd been damned lucky to keep his current job. Son of a bitch. God, I hated Dickie Orr with a passion that knew no bounds. And the sex hadn't even been that good. What a gyp!

"Men totally suck. Here's to nothing," I muttered quietly, pushing a few bills over the counter and hoisting my glass in a private toast. I tossed back the drink in a few quick gulps, and quickly spun out of my chair headed for the elevator. I'd finally decided--I was definitely making a break for it!

Instead I crashed into a solid wall of muscle and found myself up close and personal staring at the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen in my life. _Holy Moly Mother of God! What a hunk! Why the hell wasn't he stripping for me?_

His dark chocolate eyes sparkled wickedly and he gave me a wolf grin. "You never asked me to, Babe. But we can talk about it upstairs if you'd like."

_Oh crap. _I'd said it out loud! Me and my big mouth!

Damned chocolate martinis!


	2. Chapter 2

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 2

I bit my lip to prevent any further mortifying remarks from escaping while I did my best to surreptitiously check out what had to be the hottest man on the planet. Obviously of Latino heritage, he stood about 6', with a well-muscled body so perfect it demanded to be bronzed and installed in an art museum for world-wide appreciation and adoration. There was not an ounce of fat on him, and his perfect mocha latte colored skin was set off by silky hair so dark brown it almost looked black. Collar-length, it curled carelessly around his ears, and I had to physically restrain myself from reaching out to brush one particularly unruly lock of it off his face so that I could more fully appreciate the rich chocolaty hue of his mesmerizingly intense eyes.

He was dressed entirely in black: tight fitting black jeans, black boots and a form-fitting black silk shirt open just enough to display a patch of obscenely beautiful skin at the base of his throat, just begging to be devoured by a lucky pair of lips. Hopefully _mine_. Hopefully _soon_.

He wore no jewelry, other than a gold watch with a simple black leather strap on his left wrist. I noted his long fingers and damned near swooned at how sinfully gorgeous his hands were. I desperately wanted those hands roaming every inch of my hungry body, and I wanted his temptingly sensual mouth there too. I wondered what it would feel like to kiss him, and it took every ounce of self-control I had not to launch myself at him to find out.

What almost did me in on the spot was the very prominent bulge in those jeans that showed me that the muscles he sported all over his body were perfectly in proportion with what my grandmother so euphemistically called his "package". God, did I want to unwrap _that_ package for my birthday next week! I imagined that particular part of his body dressed in black satin, undulating in a g-string, and damn near moaned in orgasmic bliss at the picture it made in my lascivious little mind. Holy crap, I was in full hormonal meltdown here!

By the time I'd let my eyes take a long and careful walk over the prime male real estate standing in front of me, I'd completely ruined my panties and my body temperature had soared to 102 degrees just anticipating what that hard muscled body could do to me between the sheets. If I weren't totally off men for good, that is. Which I was. I think. Maybe. OK, so I was having second thoughts about my vow of lifelong celibacy right about now. I still didn't want a relationship, just an orgasm. Or two or three. I was, after all, _entitled_--especially after all the shit The Dickster had put me through these past few months.

"See something you like, Babe?" he drawled calmly.

I struggled mightily to pop my lust-glazed eyes back into my head and tried my damnedest to get my rampaging hormones under some semblance of control. I hoped I wasn't drooling too badly; but considering that I hadn't been laid in months and this guy looked like he could give me an orgasm by just _touching_ me….well, let's just say that I wasn't at my confident best trying to pull off the blasé attitude I'd decided to adopt.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm certainly not the least bit interested in looking at _you_," I gave him my best Burg girl death glare, and almost melted at the heat his eyes tossed back my way.

He'd been doing some extensive assessing himself, and I could tell from the predatory look on his face that he liked what he saw. I was looking pretty damned good tonight, and I knew it. So did he. The only question was, what the hell were we both going to do about it?

"Is that really the story you're gonna go with, Babe? Or would you care to try again more honestly this time?" His voice was smoky with pure sex; no matter what the hell he'd looked like, he could have had an extremely lucrative career as a phone sex operator.

Damn. How one man had managed to corner the market on sex so completely I had no clue, but he certainly had. And right about now I was thinking of doing some serious shopping in that market. After all, we were in Newark, right? And I lived in Chambersburg, over a hour's commute away. There was no way in hell my mother or anyone she knew in the Burg would find out if I was being naughty tonight or not. None of my co-workers were here at the moment: they were all trapped in the back room with Drew Carey's clone clumsily gyrating his chubby pelvis in front of their horrified faces. So who was to know what _I_ was doing? Or who was doing _me_, for that matter. _Carpe diem. _Seize the day, right? Sounded real good to me, that's for damned sure.

I think that's about when the three or four chocolate martinis I'd consumed suddenly kicked in and pushed me over the top and into true Slutdom. That's my story and I'm sticking with it. Otherwise there was no way in hell that I, Stephanie Plum, daughter of Ellen and Frank Plum and sister to Saint Valerie the Perfect, would have opened my mouth and uttered the fateful words that came out next. Well, okay, so just maybe Grandma Mazur's influence came into play too: I was working with a very scary gene pool, after all.

"I'm just looking for hot sex," I blurted, now looking guiltily over my shoulder lest anyone I knew emerge from the bachelorette party to drag me back to the festivities before I got my long-overdue and now almost-guaranteed orgasm.

_Shit, please tell me I did not just say that out loud!_

There was a long moment of silence while I waited for the floor to open up and swallow me whole. I felt myself turning lobster red and debated making a quick run for the elevator before my humiliation was well and truly complete.

"Just how hot are we talking here?" the man in black asked, one eyebrow lifting interestedly.

"Ummmm…really really hot?" I admitted, my eyes now oh-so-carefully examining the fire engine red Jimmy Choo knock-off FMPs I'd scored last week at Macy's big Fall sale.

"Okay." There was a hint of amusement in his voice that I wasn't comfortable examining too closely.

"Okay?" I squeaked, swallowing nervously, my eyes still riveted to my feet.

"That works for me, Babe." His voice was just a touch huskier now.

"It does?" God, I sounded like a complete dork now! _Way to go, Steph._

"Ask and ye shall receive."

I didn't have to look up at his face to know that I was the recipient of another full-on wolf grin.

Oh boy!

How in the living hell do I get myself into these situations, anyway?

_And now what?_


	3. Chapter 3

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 3

_Carlos' POV_

She was the last thing I expected tonight, a total and complete surprise--and I make it my business never to be surprised. In my life surprises can be deadly, so I'm extremely aware of my surroundings at all times. I'd seen the gorgeous brunette in red with the killer body and the unruly mane of curly hair emerge once before from the hotel's back room where private parties are held. I'd watched her and her red-headed girlfriend make their way over to the bar for a drink, laughing merrily, oblivious to the crowd of men watching them both with hungry eyes. The red-head was pretty, but the brunette--God, she was a total _knock-out_! The kind of woman you can't take your eyes off because she has so much life in her that she just jumps out at you and steals your breath away. I'd been nursing a beer and fantasizing about what I planned to do with her when she re-appeared. I'd had some very detailed and creative XXX rated fantasies in the 30 minutes or so I'd been waiting.

I'm Carlos Manoso, by the way. It says Ricardo Carlos Manoso on my driver's license; but I'm 'Superman' to my army buddies in Special Forces. I grew up in a lower-middleclass Cuban neighborhood of Newark, the middle child of six: one older brother and four sisters. I've spent most of my 26 years getting into one sort of trouble or another: you name it, I've pretty much done it. Finally, after two less than inspiring years at Rutgers Newark I'd finally gotten my shit together and joined the Army, becoming an Army Ranger. That had been the right decision: I'd developed a rigid discipline over mind and body that served me well, helping me to rapidly advance in my career to the point where I was now a Captain in an very elite military force. If I told you exactly what I did for the government, I'd pretty much have to kill you. And that's not an exaggeration. Let's just say that I can watch films about Delta Force and spot the inaccuracies from first-hand experience. Enough said.

Delta Force: the reason I was here tonight, enjoying what was probably my last visit home to see my family--ever--before I shipped out in three days on an overseas mission that had less than a 10% expected survival rate. I'd been deployed to pretty much every trouble spot in the world in my military career: I'd moved from the 75th Army Rangers Battalion, to Special Forces, and finally, to Delta Force. Why do I do it? Good question. I'm an adrenaline junkie, I guess. I'm good at the job; I enjoy it; I feel most alive when I'm facing danger. It's in my blood: I can't imagine doing anything else. I'm definitely not the 9 to 5 type, and I never will be. That's just not in the cards for me: I don't do normal. I'm Superman, remember?

I'd flown into Newark this Friday afternoon from Washington, D.C. and checked into the hotel for the weekend, getting in touch with my parents to set up a visit with the Manoso clan. My siblings were all married with kids, and the party at my parents' house tomorrow afternoon would be crowded with family and friends. I hadn't seen them in almost 18 months: my last deployment to Iraq had been a long one. I was looking forward to spending time at home, but had chosen to stay in a hotel rather than accept my mother's offer of the guest room. I had important things to do in Newark before I shipped out on Monday. I needed to get my legal affairs in order. I needed to touch base with some Army buddies. And I needed to get laid. Desperately. It had been far too long since I'd enjoyed the delights of a beautiful woman in my bed. I intended to rectify that particular situation tonight.

I'd come down to the hotel bar intending to enjoy a beer or two and find a willing companion for the evening. Truthfully, I've never had to put much effort out to get a woman; I usually just smile and they flock to me in droves. During the half hour or so I'd been sitting here, I'd had half a dozen women openly hitting on me. And while any one of them would have gladly done before, none of them had held any appeal at all once I'd spotted the curly-haired brunette. My body knew what it wanted; and however long it took, I intended to complete my mission. My mission being to take her to bed and give us both a night we'd never forget.

Why the brunette? She had the whole package: her body was to-die-for, molded into a tight red dress that fit like a second skin; with long shapely legs that went on for miles, and saucy little red-tipped toes that peeked out from shoes that made her hot tight little ass move in ways that had my jeans fitting far too tightly for my own comfort. Her face--well, there were no words to do her beauty justice. None. Her lips were sensual and pouty and just begging to be kissed; and those eyes--those big blue eyes were true killers. They were a shade of Caribbean blue that I knew would haunt my dreams from tonight on.

She was sex personified. From looking at her initially, I'd expected that she'd never had difficulty in her life attracting any man she'd ever wanted. I'd been more than willing to work for her company tonight: I'd spent my time checking out that back room to determine if she'd come with a date, and planning how best to part her from him. I'd been delighted to discover she was with female friends, with no men in sight; and amused to see the idiot stripping so damned badly. There was no chance in hell he was going to get lucky with her tonight. So I went back to the bar, ordered another beer and I watched and waited for my chance to part her from her herd of companions and haul her upstairs to my room for a night of hot and heavy sex.

It had taken me less than a minute to make my move once she'd finally re-emerged for another drink. I could tell she was ready to bolt any second; so I'd quickly maneuvered my way behind her in order to block her path of escape. She'd tossed back her martini like it had been water, and seconds later she was right where I wanted her. Well…_almost_ where I wanted her: flat on her back underneath me would come later. Right now, she was mere inches away closely examining me, and definitely admiring the view. So was I: she was even more beautiful up close than she'd appeared from the other end of the bar. So far, things had been moving according to my plan.

Then came the surprise. The gorgeous vision in red now stood before me, those big impossibly blue eyes seemingly riveted to the floor in mortification and a flush suffusing her face--what little I could still see of it, that is.

"I'm just looking for hot sex," she'd blurted. Then those innocent blue eyes had widened in stunned horror at her own honesty. She'd given a quick look over her shoulder--I imagine checking to see if her friends had followed her out and heard her outrageous admission--then she'd turned bright red in embarrassment.

It was the blushing that completely did me in. God, she was so damned _irresistible_, I wanted to scoop her up right then and there and spend the rest of the evening satisfying her every desire.

"Just how hot are we talking here?" I'd teased wickedly, my smile broadening.

"Ummmm…really really hot?" She still wasn't able to meet my eyes.

I wondered for the first time just how sexually experienced she really was. Not very, I was surprisingly pleased to realize. "Okay."

"Okay?" It was more like a bleet; she was clearly nervous and no doubt wondering how the hell she'd gotten herself into this whole thing. And frantically trying to figure out what to do next.

She might have been dressed like a femme fatale, but this woman was as girl next door as they came. Very innocent. Breathtakingly sexy. God, I wanted her and I wanted her badly!

"That works for me, Babe." I had every intention of giving her the hottest sex of her life. Neither one of us was looking to start a relationship; that much was clear. But we certainly had a like purpose in mind for the evening.

"It does?" She was so out of her depth now; and we both knew it.

"Ask and ye shall receive." And receive and receive and receive. All night long, in fact.

She stayed silent and motionless, still examining the floor intently. I gently touched her chin, bringing her face up so that our eyes could meet. We stood frozen in a tableau for a few minutes, our eyes locked in a private conversation. They say the eyes are the window to the soul; hers was pure and shining; mine was less than. But she didn't pull away, so we both drank in our fill.

I could feel her trembling, and her expressive eyes darkened in arousal. I felt a surprising need to reassure her; she brought out a protectiveness in me that I hadn't expected. I didn't want to examine it too closely, either. But it was there, and it was growing stronger the more time I spent in her company. "Don't worry." I wanted her to know she was safe with me: I wasn't going to do anything she didn't want; I wasn't going to hurt her. I wasn't going to treat her like a slut; I knew damned well what a treasure she was, and I intended to treat her that way. God, I was falling hard, and I'd just met her. _Watch it, Superman, you're shipping out Monday!_

"I'm not. Worried, I mean. I'm fine." Her voice was so soft I had to strain to hear it.

"We're going to do this, Babe," I ran my finger over her bottom lip and her tongue peeked out to meet it, "and it's going to be _good_. I promise you that."

"Omigod. Omigod. Omigod." She closed her eyes, but made no effort to pull away. I continued to trace her perfect lips with my thumb, memorizing her mouth and enjoying the feel of her skin in my hand. She moaned softly.

"Do you want to call your friends and tell them you're leaving with me?" Not that I really wanted her to, lest they try to convince her to stay. But I guessed it was best--after all, I certainly didn't need people searching the hotel thinking she'd been a victim of foul play.

"I guess I should, huh?" she seemed almost hypnotized by my touch.

"Whatever you want, Babe." Anything and everything.

"I think I already told you what I want," her eyes opened finally, and there was a wicked twinkle in them that told me she had definitely decided to take what she wanted tonight. Happily, that was me--and I was ready, willing and able to be taken.

"You certainly did--and I promised to deliver. And I always keep my word. Especially to beautiful brunettes with big blue eyes."

"That's good to know. I'll call them from my room. Let's get the hell out of here before I melt into a puddle on the floor."

I gave her a big smile, and offered my arm, "Lead on. Wither thou goest, and all that…"

"I can't believe I'm doing this." She seemed to be talking to herself more than to me.

"Having second thoughts, Babe?" We were heading into the hotel lobby now, and I couldn't take my eyes off her. So much for being aware of my surroundings: I had it _bad_.

"No. I'm just….." she bit her lip and risked another look at me, "I'm not usually this…um….forward. Slutty. Holy shit! I just picked up a hot guy from the bar for a one night stand! My mother would absolutely _kill_ me if she ever found out."

"I'm not going to tell your mom," I promised her, wondering if she was even aware she was speaking out loud. "We don't have to do this if you're having second thoughts, Babe."

"I'm not having second thoughts," she assured me, "I'm just processing my first thoughts kinda slowly. _God! _I'm really screwing this up, aren't I? You think I'm a real dork. Go ahead, you can admit it. I'm a complete failure at this whole _Sex In the City_ slut thing."

I actually was finding her enchanting, but I didn't think she'd believe me. I settled for, "You're doing just fine; you worry too much."

We were just passing the hotel gift shop, and I indicated to her that I needed to make a quick stop. She looked at me quizzically.

"I need to get something for tonight," I guided her inside and headed for the counter.

"Candy bars?" She sounded hopeful. "That sounds like a good idea. I could use a few."

"Actually, I was planning on picking up a box of condoms--but if you want candy, Babe, just pick out what you want."

"Shit! I'm a such a loser!" she groaned in mortification. "_DUH!! _Of course you weren't stopping for candy!"

Impulsively, I gave her a quick and affectionate kiss, and she blinked in surprise. "What kind do you want, Babe? Pick out anything you want, as much as you want."

"You mean it?" She bit her lip, and I saw her eyes surveying the selection with interest.

"Sure: I gotta keep your strength up for the marathon tonight, right?"

She blushed again, no doubt thinking about my 'marathon' comment. "I'll be fine."

"Actually, I'll take you out to dinner if you're hungry," I offered, surprising myself as well as her. "Candy bars are empty calories." I checked my watch, "You want to go somewhere and get something to eat first?"

"Really? You mean it?" She hurriedly pushed two Snickers bars on the counter, and the clerk rang up the total. "_Oh God_!"

I looked over and found her staring at the counter in a kind of daze. "Now what's the problem, Babe?"

"Magnum XXL?" she squeaked, pointing at the blue box of condoms incredulously.

I gave her a wolf grin, teasing, "I had to settle for these: they're all out of XXXL."

She widened her very expressive eyes, saying nothing. Then she let her eyes travel down to my crotch, apparently trying her best to figure out just how big XXXL might cover.

"You okay there, Babe? You're kinda quiet all of a sudden."

"Oh boy!" She was bright red again. But definitely smiling happily in anticipation.

I just laughed, and gave her another quick kiss. She was too much! And for tonight, at least, she was all mine! I'd never felt luckier.


	4. Chapter 4

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 4

"So where are we heading now, Babe?" the hottest, sexiest man on the planet asked me as we ambled out of the gift shop and back into the lobby, his arm closed protectively around me.

I was still distracted, desperately trying to imagine how I was gonna fit an XXXL cock where it needed to be to make both of us happy--but _hey_, I was more than game to try! After all, it's not often a girl gets an opportunity like that, right? Not _this _girl, anyway: the Dickster wasn't terribly well-endowed, which I suspect was why he needed to prove his masculinity by boinking every female in his vicinity. And the few other men I'd been with before marriage to the horse's ass certainly hadn't needed extra-sized _anything_. Which was why the Drew Carey clone had been such a damned disappointment tonight: if I wasn't gonna _get _it, at least I wanted to be able to _look _at it. Only fair, I thought. Except that tonight--hot damn!--it sure looked like Stephanie Plum-no-longer-Orr was gonna _get_ it! Omigod, was I ever: The Doomsday Orgasm I'd dreamed about for years was now well within my grasp! I wondered if I would spontaneously combust upon actual penetration?

"Earth to Babe," he repeated, his hand slowly stroking my forearm and causing my body to do a little happy dance. "You still with me, tiger?"

"I'm just trying to---" I admitted, biting my lip before I made a bigger fool out of myself. I could feel that stupid ear to ear grin splitting my face. "Trying to--_you know_--"

"I figured that out already," he laughed, "You have a very expressive face, Babe. Gorgeous, too. And don't waste another minute worrying about it: I guarantee you it'll fit just perfectly. Especially since I've got some plans of my own where you're concerned. Been making them non-stop since I first laid eyes on you."

"Plans? _Omigod! _What kind of plans?" _Glub._

"You'd be surprised. I'm a very creative guy. And you inspire me."

"I don't do butt stuff," I blurted, as his hand slid down to cup my ass. "Not happening!"

That earned a full on wolf grin. "No butt stuff required, Babe. But you're okay with the handcuffs thing, right?"

I froze in position, my poor overloaded brain shorting out at the picture of me in handcuffs while he…._did _things to me. Very hot, very steamy, very intense and majorly pleasurable things that would no doubt cause me to go straight to Hell and burn for eternity. Still, it would probably be worth it--we're talking _XXXL_, after all! Omigod. Wait! Maybe it wasn't _me _he meant? Maybe _he_ was gonna be the one in handcuffs? That turned me on even more! I could have him spread-eagled and at my mercy while I mounted him and used my tongue and my hands to….._Damn! _I was going straight to Hell, all right. I was such a slut! And even worse, I was a _messy_ one: I actually felt the drool pooling at the corner of my mouth. And I knew damned well I'd completely and totally ruined my panties this time.

"I was only kidding about the handcuffs, Babe. Don't have any with me."

"I knew that." I tried my damnedest to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

"I have a tie, though. And I'm willing to rip my shirt into strips, if you're interested."

I gave him my Burg girl death glare. "That's so not funny."

"That wasn't a joke, Babe."

_Oh boy!_

We started walking again, heading towards the elevator, in silence this time. We both had other things on our minds: XXX rated things.

"Just how creative are those plans, anyway?" I asked, finally.

"Pretty damned creative," he admitted quietly. "Am I scaring you off?"

"No. Were you trying to?"

"No. Are you going to tell me your name, Babe?"

"Does it matter? Honestly? It's just sex, right? Neither one of us is looking to get involved in a relationship. It's just a one night stand. So, that said, does it really matter what my name is?"

"To me, it does. Look, I'm just going to say this now, and you can take it however you want to. I've done this kind of thing before, more than once. I'm in town just for the weekend, then I'm gone forever. No staying in touch, no chance of a happily ever after. That's not in the cards. I came down to the bar looking for the kind of a woman who knew exactly what she was getting into. And instead I found you, Babe."

"And what? You think I don't know what I'm getting into tonight?" I was trying to figure out how the playful dynamic between us had shifted so suddenly. Was he telling me he wasn't interested in me anymore? Letting me down easy? Or just trying his best to be honest and warning me not to expect anything more from him than one night of hot sex? I honestly wasn't sure.

There was a long pause while he carefully considered my question. "I think you're the kind of woman I could fall head over heels for if I were at another time and place in my life. I think you're sexy and cute and innocent and endearing and playful, and any man in his right mind would grab you and never let you go for the rest of his life. But I can't do that, Babe. For a lot of reasons. And I'm very willing to admit that you deserve far more than I can give you. So I'm just going to give you the truth and let you make up your own mind what to do with it: do you want to be with me tonight, given how things are? Or would you rather walk away right now before you do something you'll regret in the morning? It's your choice, Babe. But make it now. Because I'm an opportunist at heart, and I don't know how much longer I can be noble about this."

I looked into his dark chocolate colored eyes and saw everything I needed to see. "I haven't done this kind of thing before, and I don't know what the rules are. But I can guess. So let me be as honest with you as you just were with me: I'm just coming out of a really lousy marriage with a guy who treated me like shit. I'm not exactly at a place in my life where I want to take a chance with another guy and find out that _he's_ gonna start cheating on me too. I'm not certain I even believe in happily ever after--not anymore. I'm not looking to be your girl-friend. Yours or anyone else's, for that matter. But I am looking to share a bed with you for the night--if we can agree to keep being honest with each other. Keep it real between us. You don't lie to me, and I won't lie to you. No promises of happily ever after that neither one of us plans to keep. We'll spend a really fantastic night and then say goodbye and good luck and never look back. No one will ever know about it but us. It'll be like this never happened."

"Can you do that, Babe?" He wrapped his arms around me, his hand stroking my back as we finished our unusual negotiations.

"I can. I want to." And I did.

"That's not the liquor talking, is it? I need to be sure."

"_Excuse me_?" That question had come out of left field.

"You tossed back that martini pretty quickly. And it wasn't your first. I don't want to take advantage of you."

"You aren't. Ever think that maybe it's me taking advantage of you?" I pointed out, "After all, I don't know the first thing about you, even your name. And I don't care. I'm only here for what you've got in that bag."

That got the wolf grin back, "The candy bars, you mean?"

"Fuck the candy bars!" I laughed, "You know damned well what I mean."

"You don't want to know my name then?" He didn't sound convinced.

"No--not especially," I insisted. Damn, the more I talked to the man, the more I found myself attracted to him. The more I wanted more than one night with him. But one night was all he was offering, and one night was what I planned to savor. Especially because of his honesty: I wasn't expecting that, not after all the shit I'd been through with Dickie Orr. I'd been ready to give up on men for good, write them all off as pond scum…then this guy came along. And I was realizing that he might have the total package: looks, sex appeal, humor, charm, and integrity. I actually liked the guy a lot, and not just because he was totally and devastatingly gorgeous. That made me feel better about my Slutdom: at least I had high standards. Hell, forget the XXXL; he'd have gotten lucky tonight if he'd been just XL!

"What if I told you I really wanted you to know it?"

"Why is that, pray tell?"

"Because when I make you come screaming, I want to hear my name on your lips."

Wow, _that _came out of the blue! I felt a rush down south and grinned in anticipation. "Well, if you put it that way, I guess I ought to know who I'll be thanking, right? So? What is it?"

"Yours first, Babe."

"Stevie."

"No way in hell am I sleeping with a _Stevie_."

"You have problems with that?"

"It's a guy thing."

"So call me _Babe_ instead." I actually had gotten a nice squishy feeling in my nether regions at the nickname. On his lips it sounded _special_.

"What's your real name?"

"None of your business," I teased, "Come on, let's get where we're going, Mr. No Name. The longer we stand here in the lobby the more time my friends have to find me and drag me back into the party from Hell."

"These friends of yours--they actually call you _Stevie_?"

"Yep, they do. Have for years."

"What about your ex, the slimeball? What's he call you?"

"He doesn't call me anything; not since I kicked his ass to the curb publicly and taught him not to mess with me anymore. A lesson you should learn, Hot Stuff. So go ahead and spill it--I'm listening. What do your friends call _you_?"

"Superman."

"I'll just bet they do." I snorted. "In your dreams."

"It's true," he insisted, "I promised not to lie to you, remember? It's my nickname. Really. Like Stevie is yours. You give me your real name, I'll give you mine."

"More negotiations, huh? We'll see. _Superman_? OK, well that bodes well for the evening--that and the size of what you've got in the bag."

"You didn't answer me before. You hungry? I'll take you to dinner, _Stevie_. God, I can't bring myself to do it. I just can't, Babe."

"Take me to dinner, you mean?"

"Call you Stevie. The only Stevie I know is 275 lbs, bald and belches non-stop. I can't do this unless I have another name for you."

"Why not? You having some equipment problems there, Superman?" I chortled.

"That'll never happen. But I warn you: I have my ways of making you talk," he teased, leaning in to drop hot hungry kisses down my throat.

"Keep it up, that actually might work." _Oh, yeah, it sure would!_

"Before long, I'm gonna get your name, rank and serial number out of you, I guarantee it. Just wait and see."

"And here I was kind of hoping you were trying to get something _else _out of me…"

"That too," he laughed, pulling me closer and really turning on the charm. Hell, I was ready to combust right there in the lobby if he didn't stop with the kisses and the roaming hands. "So, answer the question. Are you hungry? Do you feel like eating something before we go upstairs?"

"What if I said yes?" Which I absolutely hated to admit. What I really wanted to do was to go upstairs and have non-stop orgasms all night long. But since Gladys had ripped our money off for the bachelorette party and the promised hot buffet had been instead nothing more substantial than finger food, I was actually more than a bit hungry. OK, so by now I was kinda _starving_.

"Then I'll take you out and feed you, Babe. Anyplace in particular you have in mind? Italian? Seafood? Chinese? I know a great little Cuban place---"

"Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of McDonald's."

"That stuff will kill ya, Babe."

"It's quick, though: we can drive thru and grab a couple of burgers and some fries. Then get back upstairs and burn off the calories before they have the chance to do any major damage. Sound good to you?"

"Sounds better and better now that I think about it," he admitted. "They have salads."

"Or else we could just call room service," I suggested hopefully. That idea was sounding pretty good to me, too. No need to go out at all: we could go upstairs to my room and start fooling around right now. Then we could eat fast and get completely naked and sweaty for the rest of the night. I'd get my orgasms much quicker that way. And I really really needed that first orgasm just as fast as I could get it. McDonald's could wait: I had my priorities straight!

"Room service is good. And while we're waiting for them to bring up our food, we can spend our time eating something else."

"I'm not sharing my candy bars," I warned him.

"That wasn't what I was planning on eating, Babe."

_Omigod. _I think I lost consciousness for a brief minute.

"You all right there, tiger?"

"Room 407, Superman. And step on it."

There was a Doomsday Orgasm with my name on it--_Babe_ or _Stevie_, it didn't matter which--and it was just waiting for me. And I intended to get it while the getting was good!


	5. Chapter 5

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 5

We traded a few very enjoyable kisses in the elevator, but unfortunately things didn't get anywhere near as heated as I'd hoped. Why? The freakin elevator stopped on every floor while a seemingly endless parade of hotel guests trundled on and off with annoying frequency. I was beyond frustrated, but the only positive thing was that I could see that the man in black was even more perturbed than I was. This also boded well for the rapid delivery of my orgasm: neither one of us was very interested in long foreplay right about now.

My phone rang insistently just outside the door to my room. I fumbled with the clasp of my red satin bag and hauled my cell out, sighing deeply as I checked the caller ID. This next bit was going to be very tricky: Tina was a real pit bull, and unfortunately she could spot my fibs from 20 paces away without even breaking a sweat.

"Hey, girl! Where the hell _are_ you, anyway?" Her voice was loud and shrill enough to make my head hurt. "I went out to the bar to find your ass and you'd totally disappeared. Did you go to Russia for the vodka or what?"

"Sorry! Spur of the moment decision. I just decided to call it a night. I'm heading to bed early." Damn straight I was: with a very delicious and delectable man in tow!

"Not fair, Babycakes! Get your little ass back in here, and fast! We're all stuck here at this disaster of a party," came her prompt response, "that means _you_ gotta come suffer too. That's what friends do for other friends."

"Not this friend. Not tonight, anyway. I've suffered more than enough, thank you very much," I shook my head, rolling my eyes, as Superman took my key card from my outstretched bag and opened the door while I launched into my desperate little fib. "Besides, I suddenly came down with an awful headache, thanks to those damned martinis, and now I'm afraid I'm gonna be sick. Could be a migraine, now that I think about it. I really gotta hang up now and go lie down."

"_Bullshit! _Not buying that story for a minute, Stevie!"

"Really, honestly! I'm not lying about it," I insisted, which was a pretty clear indication to her that I was doing exactly that.

"Of course you're lying, and we both know it," came the derisive snort, "Now either you get your ass back down here and keep me company, or else I come upstairs and beat your door down and drag you back down. Which would you prefer?"

"Don't do this to me, Tina," I pleaded, "Please! I'm begging you; I need privacy tonight. I'm desperate!"

"Wait just one hot little moment here. OK, OK, it's all becoming very clear to me now. My Momma didn't birth no fool. Who is he? And don't say 'who is who?' because then for sure I'm going to head upstairs and find out for myself. You hooked yourself a live one in the bar, didn't you?"

I looked over at The Live One, who was leaning against the door, arms folded, looking hotter than any one man should be allowed to in this lifetime. Damn! I wanted to be wrapped in his arms, not wrapped up in an endless phone conversation that was depriving me of my inalienable right to a desperately-needed and long-deserved orgasm. So I groaned, swore under my breath in exasperation, and folded like a cheap paper lantern in a Indian monsoon. "Yeah, I did--I confess. I grabbed me a real hot prospect; you caught me, all right?! We're getting ready to fuck like bunny rabbits all night long. You happy, Tina? Now I need my privacy for the rest of the evening, OK? I'm not answering my phone. In fact, I'm turning it off right now, you hear me? I'm not opening up my door, either. And if I see your noisy little face lurking around in the corridor trying to get a look at who I'm with, I'll spill to Mrs. Lebowitz that you took a sick day to hit the Macy's pre-Labor Day sale."

"So did you, remember? We went together, damn it! That's so not fair!"

"Yeah, but I already got busted for it; you're still in the clear. For _now_, that is. Of course, that could change rapidly, depending on how you want to play this whole thing out tonight."

"Bitch!" she laughed, "Shit, girlfriend, he must be really smoking hot if you're that damned desperate to get laid! I thought you swore off men for good after Dick The Prick?"

"So I changed my mind. It happens, OK? Now drop it, will you please?"

"Drop it? Like hell I will! I want _details_. What's he look like? Is he naked yet? Are you naked yet? Come on, spill it! Inquiring minds want to know! On a scale of 1 to 10, how good is the sex? Has he gone down on you yet? How many inches are we talking about? And how thick is he where it counts?"

Superman was openly smirking by now, having moved behind me to cop a feel. No doubt, he was definitely hearing and enjoying the entire conversation. In that, at least, he was a typical man. He brushed my explosion of curls off my neck and did something extremely creative with his tongue in my ear. I damned near dropped the phone as a result, and I couldn't even disguise the long moan of desire that escaped. His hands moved slowly down my body, cupping my breasts and kneading them expertly, causing my long ignored nipples to stand up and salute proudly. Then his hands slid over my quivering tummy and moved to points south, finally landing on my bare thighs. Then those oh-so-talented hands started stroking me, moving inwards and upwards marching relentlessly towards the Promised Land. I let out a loud wail of pleasure and arched back into his muscular chest as his hands continued to work their magic. Now this was Heaven, for sure!

I forgot all about Tina and the phone: frankly, it was all I could do to stay upright. Damn, that man knew exactly what he was doing, and I could feel my body getting ready to sing the warm-up to the Hallelujah Chorus! I could feel his huge XXXL cock pressing on the crack of my ass, and I rubbed myself against him like a kitten in heat, winning a long husky stream of Spanish into my ear. Not that I understood a freakin word of it, mind you. But it mattered not a bit to me. He could have been reciting the room service menu and I'd still have been burning up listening to it.

"Omigod! Are you doing it _now_?" Tina bellowed in my ear. "Holy shit, are you actually on the phone while you're getting fucked? Stella! Ruby! Stevie's having sex while I'm talking to her on the phone! I swear to God! Come listen! She picked up some hot guy in the bar and dragged his fine ass upstairs! They're fucking right now! Do you believe it?? Omigod! Omigod!"

I could hear a group of my friends babbling excitedly in reply, and felt the chest behind me shaking with silent laughter. I looked over my shoulders at The Live One, who was openly grinning in amusement. "No one's gonna know about this but _us_, huh, Babe? _This never happened_, right?"

"Shit! You know what they say about the best laid plans," I groaned unhappily, shutting off the phone and tossing it carelessly onto the chair which already held my bag. "I guess we could always head to your room and hide."

"I don't know about you, Babe, but I know for damned sure that _I_ can't wait that long. I'm on the 8th floor and that damned elevator takes forever. If we really have to worry about your nosy friends breaking in and interrupting us, then I vote we just push the desk across the door and stay here."

"Works for me," I was more than tired of wasting time worrying about Tina and my nosy-ass girlfriends. I wanted my damned orgasm! Impatiently, I placed my hands on top of his and guided them exactly where I wanted them to go. "Omigod, right there! Right there! Right there!" He was firmly on Ground Zero now, and I was rapidly approaching total nuclear meltdown. "Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Oh, fuck, that's soooooo good!"

"You like that, Babe?" He nibbled at my earlobe, his hands pulling my dress up to my waist. "I know what else you're gonna like."

"Uh huh. Me too. Give it to me," I pleaded, my body aching with need. I'd never wanted anything more, and that was no lie.

"I'm going to give you everything you ever wanted, I promise. But first, tell me your real name."

"Bastard," I groaned, "I said no. That's not fair."

"I told you, I have my ways of making you talk, Babe. You want it, you can have it all. If you talk. But _only_ if you talk. Otherwise--" His hands slowed.

"No, no, no, no, no! Don't stop, _please_ don't stop. I need this, damn it. I _need_--"

"How long has it been, Babe? Tell me how long."

"Too long. Forever. What does it matter anyway?"

"Tell me what I want to know."

"What are you asking me? How long since I've been with a man? How long since I've had an orgasm? How long I've wanted to feel just exactly like this--the way you make me feel when you touch me like that? What do you want me to tell you?"

"Tell me all of it," he whispered, as his hands stroked my red silk Victoria's Secret panties in exactly the right spot. "I want to know everything about you, Babe. _Everything. _Dios! You're dripping wet for me, Babe."

"I've been wet since the minute I saw you," I whimpered, my body ready to confess all its secrets if only his hands would keep working their magic on me.

"Tell me your real name."

"Stephanie. It's _Stephanie_, all right?"

"Estefanía. So beautiful, so perfect, so absolutely magnificent, my sweet sweet Stephanie." He ripped my panties off with one quick yank, and suddenly plunged three fingers deep into my wet hot pussy. His thumb continued to tease my clit mercilessly as his long clever fingers curved inside me and began moving in a slow rhythm that had me moaning in delight. "Now answer the other questions."

"I can't remember them." And I honestly couldn't. I couldn't focus on a damned thing other than the feeling of his magic fingers in me and the knowledge that very soon I'd have his thick hard cock inside me, driving me slowly insane. I could feel him hard and throbbing behind me, and I was pretty sure that he wasn't going to last much longer either.

"Fuck me," I begged. "I want your cock deep inside me. _Right now_."

"Not yet," he began stroking me faster, "You're not ready for me inside you just yet, Stephanie. But you will be soon. Then it's going to be so good. I swear to God, Babe, it will be everything you've hoped for and more."

"I'm ready for you right _now_," I insisted, "You want me, you know you do. I can feel you! Fuck me now! Hard and fast and deep. Make me scream."

"First with my fingers, then with my mouth, and then finally with my cock. We have all night, Babe. Don't rush any of it. We're going to do it all. We have nothing but time."

"Oh, Christ," I whimpered, the unbelievable ache growing stronger inside me, "I _need_--"

"You're fighting it, Babe; I know it. I can feel it. Let go, Stephanie! Just lean back and relax and just let go. Trust me, Babe. Let me take you where you want to be."

I felt the fire burning out of control deep inside my belly. Finally, unable to resist any longer, I gave in to it completely as his fingers pumped rapidly inside me, bringing me to a fever pitch of quivering aching hot raw desire. Suddenly, without warning, I exploded, my body shattering into a million pieces, as one strong arm held me around my waist keeping me upright while his fingers sent me spinning into an orgasm so intense that I found myself sobbing uncontrollably.

When I'd finished shaking, he scooped me into his powerful arms and carried me over to the bed, setting me gently on the fluffy down comforter. He lay next to me, carefully molding his body to mine, and dropped soft kisses on my now-dry lips.

I couldn't think of a damned thing to say; I was completely drained and boneless.

"It's been a long time for you, huh?" He stroked my flushed cheeks tenderly.

I nodded once, not trusting my voice. My heart was still beating out of my chest as I struggled to regain my senses.

He looked at me intently, "That bastard hurt you really bad, didn't he, Babe? Robbed you of your self-confidence. Well, he's a damned fool for cheating on you; he didn't deserve you, Stephanie. Remember that. And you're well rid of him."

"I know that. I do. But it still hurts. Not that I still love him, because I don't. If I ever really did in the first place. I think mostly I was in love with the idea of being in love. You know what I mean? I just hate feeling like a fool. Like a loser. Again."

He nodded. "Do you want to talk about it, Babe? I'm a good listener. It might make you feel better."

"Not much to talk about. I haven't had very good luck with men. Ever. Dickie was the latest in a long string of bums that I somehow seem to attract with frightening regularity."

"That's the ass' name? _Dickie_?" He sounded thoroughly disgusted. "What kind of a grown man calls himself Dickie?"

"Dick the Prick. Dickie Orr. He's a lawyer in Chambersburg. It's a suburb of Trenton. I forgot--you're not from around here, huh?"

"That where you live, Babe? In Chambersburg?"

"Yeah; _the Burg_, we call it. And my mother was absolutely _euphoric_ when Dickie started showing interest in me. She always wanted me married to a fine upstanding professional man, don't you know? Keeping a neat home. Making meatloaf and pot roast and baking cookies and getting ready to push out 2.5 kids like women in the Burg are supposed to do. And most of all, she wanted me to stop embarrassing her by thinking I'm Wonder Woman."

I sighed, stretching out contentedly, now completely relaxed, thanks to my first orgasm in almost a year. A far more powerful and satisfying one than I'd ever had from The Dickster, either before or after Joyce Barnhardt. And all this, just from three magic fingers and a supremely skilled thumb! Oh, yeah: I, Stephanie Plum, was a _very_ happy woman right right about now. And planning on getting even happier once his promised mouth and cock came into play later in the evening…

"So…you're Wonder Woman, Babe?" He raised one brow interestedly and waited for me to expound further.

I looked over at him with a wicked smile, "It's a _really_ long story, Superman. Why don't we order room service first? Then while we wait for it to get here I can demonstrate a few of my _special powers _to you." I ran my hand over his crotch, and was rewarded with a soft groan of appreciation and a very big wolf grin.


	6. Chapter 6

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 6

_Carlos' POV_

"Found it!" Stephanie waved the room service menu aloft in her hand triumphantly. She'd scrambled out of bed moments earlier, giggling as she evaded my lustful grasp, and for the last few minutes I'd watched her frantically toss her room in a desperate search for the menu. She wasn't the neatest guest the hotel had ever seen, I was sure: her clothes were strewn pell-mell across the room as if her luggage had exploded--and that was _before_ she'd started the search. I suspected she'd tried on several dresses before settling on the tight red slinky number that currently hugged her curves so expertly. The missing menu had been finally located on the desk, buried under an avalanche of color: cobalt blue, emerald green, salmon pink and royal purple were the most visible. Apparently they were the runners-up; the red dress had won a hard-earned victory tonight.

Her Caribbean blue eyes were sparkling, and her skin still had that luminous 'just fucked' glow to it. Except that my fingers had done that fucking, not my cock. No, that indescribable pleasure still awaited me; and I was going to enjoy every single minute of it, all night long. In fact, I had a strong urge to pick up a _second_ box of condoms: the more I thought about it, the more I was certain that the 12 contained in the newly purchased box just wouldn't be enough. Not for what I had planned for this hot and wickedly sexy beauty!

Yeah, I readily admit, I was hornier than I'd ever been in my life…and that's saying something. And before you say it: maybe _you_ couldn't get it up a dozen times in one night--but trust me, they call me 'Superman' for _many_ reasons! And this Superman hadn't been laid in a very very long time, thanks to Uncle Sam's seemingly endless demands for my services in one war zone or another: my Babe wasn't the only one coming out of a long sexual drought. I was a parched Sahara traveler who'd just stumbled upon an Oasis. And like a thirsty camel, I planned to drink my fill tonight.

No, we weren't going to get a damned bit of sleep all night; I was practically salivating at the thought of all the different ways I'd fuck my sweet Stephanie. I wanted her against the wall, on the bed, on the desk, in the shower, on the floor…hell, I just plain _wanted _her! She wasn't going to be able to walk for at least a week by the time I'd finished with her. And she'd never forget me, no matter how many men were fortunate enough to bed her in future. I planned to ruin her for all other men tonight; to lay claim to her in a way no other man ever had or ever could. I knew damned well I could do it, too. And for the record--it's not bragging if you can back it up. Trust me, _I _can back it up: I hadn't exaggerated about size of the XXXL package I carried around. And every last inch of it was rock hard and aching for Stephanie's juicy sweetness.

I intended to fuck both of us into exhaustion before the night was over--especially since this was the only night I'd ever have with my beautiful Babe. And the fact that I was very probably going to get myself killed in Iraq very soon--a 10% survival rate didn't bode well for even me--only added to my desire to make this night a truly memorable one. Delta Force. The suicide mission. Monday. Damn it all! Why now? I pushed those dark thoughts out of my mind forcefully, focusing instead on the voluptuous brunette I craved so desperately. I sat up, leaning against the headboard of the king size bed, my arms tucked in back of my head as I watched her hungrily. She was one hell of a beautiful woman: I saw miles and miles of shapely leg and a body that would tempt even a saint. I was no saint.

She was nose deep in the menu, pouring over it intently on the other side of the room and muttering darkly to herself. I smiled in amusement. _Now_ what the hell was she worried about? It could be anything! I strained to hear her as she perched against the desk, nibbling on her bottom lip and shaking her head.

"God, thanks to that money-hungry bitch Gladys, I'm absolutely _starving_! $75 bucks a head, and we get chips and dip, peanuts, nachos, and Goddamn pigs in a blanket. And frickin' Drew Carey in a g-string. I'm gonna kill the thieving bitch, and not a court in Jersey will convict me. Hell, I feed Rex better than that. And I don't subject him to ugly ass dancing, either. My poor traumatized eyes."

"Who's Gladys?" From the dangerous look in Stephanie's eye, I would hate to be her.

"Huh? Oh, _Gladys_! She's the thief I work with who stole our hard-earned money and probably gambled it all away in Atlantic City while we almost starved to death at the bachelorette party from Hell."

"Who's Rex?" She was off men since her cheating ex; did she have a dog?

"My hamster. Nosy, aren't you? Are we playing 20 Questions and nobody warned me?"

I shrugged, "You fascinate me, what can I say?" And she did--completely. I'd never met anyone as effervescent, with a totally natural charm and drop dead effortless sex appeal. She was the real deal, all right.

"I _fascinate_ you?" she scoffed at that.

"You do," I insisted. There was something about her that drew me in, despite the fact that this was just a one night stand that would never be--could never be--anything more. I'd slept with more women than I could count, but I'd never cared enough to ask questions about their lives. Why would I? They didn't matter to me other than for sex. But Stephanie was different in a way I couldn't quite explain: Stephanie mattered. She wasn't buying it, though.

"You're so full of shit, Superman. You just want to fuck me," she smirked, wiggling her hips playfully and teasing me in a sing-song voice. "You really really really want to fuck me."

"That too." I grinned, "But first I want to get you fed so you can have the energy to keep up with me tonight. Speaking of which, are you any closer to making the great decision?"

"I'm definitely going with the Fettuccine Alfredo, but I'm having a major problem with dessert. Do I want Double Divine Chocolate Mousse or Tiramisu? Or should I go with Chocolate Cheesecake with Raspberry Sauce instead? Or stick with the old reliable Hot Fudge Sundae?"

"Does it really matter, Babe?"

"Dessert _always _matters, Superman."

"OK, so order them all. Decide what you want to have when they get here."

"I could always do that, I guess. After all, I'm living dangerously tonight--being wicked, wanton and completely decadent. Giving myself over completely to the pleasures of the flesh."

"That's the spirit, Babe." I gave her a wolf grin.

"Damn skippy! What about you? What are you going to have?"

"_You_--if and when you get the damned dinner ordered and get your sweet little ass back to bed."

"I told you I don't do butt stuff."

"I could change your mind, Babe."

"Not with a XXXL cock, you can't."

I laughed. "OK, so no butt stuff. But I have other plans for you, and all of them involve getting you naked and sweaty and putting a big smile on your face. So come back to bed and let me get on with my master plan."

"Master plan? And just what might that be?"

"I plan on ruining you for all other men tonight."

"Oh really? That's very ambitious of you, Superman. Modest, too. But honestly, after watching Drew Carey shaking his limp little wee wee in my face for more minutes than I care to remember, I'm more than willing to be ruined."

"Drew Carey being the pathetic stripper you were so anxious for me to replace?" I grinned, reminding her of her embarrassing blurt to me when we'd first met.

"Hey, if you'd seen him, you'd understand my agony. I was willing to pay him to get dressed. And as I recall, you didn't turn me down. You said we could talk about it if we went upstairs."

"I did." I remembered it well.

"We're upstairs now," she reminded me archly. "You gonna give me a hot show tonight, Superman? Before this promised ruination begins?"

"Oh you're getting a hot show all right, Wonder Woman. All night long. All your wildest fantasies come true. Guaranteed. I never disappoint gorgeous blue eyed brunettes. Especially ones with curly hair and killer bodies."

"So I get to watch you strut your stuff? Good. I've got a bunch of dollar bills I was saving up for the occasion. You give me a good enough show, it should just about cover your share of dinner."

"Gonna have to be a very short show, Babe. I don't have much to take off."

"No problem: I can live with you shaking your bon-bon in your boxers for awhile. I'll just tuck the dollar bills into your waistband."

"Not possible, Babe: I'm commando tonight."

There was a long silence. I thought she was going to drop the menu. "You did not just tell me that." Her eyes were huge and her mouth was hanging open, her tongue lolling to one side.

"_Babe_."

"Omigod. Omigod. Give me a minute. I think I just ruined my panties."

"You're not wearing any panties, Babe. I took care of that already. Then I took care of you."

"So you did, Superman. And very well, I might add," she admitted, flushing very slightly.

"I aim to please. I'm willing to please a lot more. Get over here and I'll show you just how much more."

She grinned happily and ambled towards the bed, neatly evading a pile of lethal looking stilettos in shades that matched the dresses piled high on the desk. She handed me the menu. "What do you feel like eating? What looks good to you?"

"_You. _To both questions." I pulled her onto the bed and she playfully straddled me, rubbing herself teasingly over my hardened length. Damn, she felt good! I tossed the unwanted menu to the side carelessly, and slid my hands down to cup her tight hot ass as she undulated sensuously over my now aching cock. "I don't care about food. Order whatever the hell you want, Babe. Do it fast. I want to fuck you," I growled.

"Oh you _do_, huh? You want to fuck me? Well, I like the sound of _that_," she purred. Stephanie's hands began gliding over my chest slowly in a sensual exploration, her fingers flicking my sensitive nipples through the silk of my shirt and sending sparks shooting through my entire body. This woman did things to me that no one else ever had or ever would. "And you know what else? I like the _feel _of it even more--you're rock hard. You're ready to take me right now, aren't you?"

I couldn't deny that. My hands gripped her ass tighter and I let out a long groan of pleasure. "Babe, you're playing with fire."

"Looking to get burned." Her hands roamed freely over my chest, tracing every inch of my body. She ran her fingers up to the patch of skin just under my collarbone and moaned audibly. "I want to lick every inch of your body. And I want to start right _here_." Her mouth followed her fingers, and seconds later I felt the heat as her tongue swirled lightly on my flesh. I let out a hoarse cry and let my head arch back, exposing more skin to her. She greedily licked like a hungry kitten lapping down a bowl of milk, and then she began dropping hot wet kisses on the path her tongue had taken. I was completely lost by then, my breath coming in shallow pants.

My hands caressed her perfectly formed ass as she continued to undulate sensuously over my groin, tormenting me with the promise of total satisfaction. Hell, I'd paid for lap dances that weren't done as expertly as this seduction was. Her mouth shifted direction to follow my throat upwards to my jaw line and over to my ear, where she nibbled on my earlobe and whispered things that I'm pretty sure weren't anatomically possible. But I was damned willing to give them a try, and told her so in no uncertain terms.

She laughed softly, huskily, then followed a course that led her to my mouth, where she really did some serious damage. She began by using one finger to carefully outline my lips as our eyes locked and we silently promised each other total ecstasy. Then she lowered her head and used her tongue to re-trace the path. Her mouth dropped feather soft kisses, then she took her own sweet time sucking on my lips, nibbling on them before finally taking what she wanted. Her tongue plunged into my mouth and in an instant the kiss turned incendiary. She devoured my mouth, her tongue finding mine and dancing with it passionately as her arms wrapped around my neck and she molded her curves tightly to my body.

I hungrily returned kiss for kiss, my hands roaming her body and pulling her closer as the kisses deepened to a white hot intensity. I found the zipper of her dress and used it, to expose a creamy expanse of silken smooth skin on her back. My fingers slid inside the two folds of satin, and within seconds I'd unhooked the clasp of her matching bra. I was trying to decide how best to part her from the dress with my tongue still down her throat--especially since she was pressed so tightly to me that you couldn't even slip a piece of paper between us.

That's when we heard it: a very very loud and indelicate grumble that emanated from the empty stomach of the temptress straddling my lap. Talk about mood-killers! We both froze in mid-kiss.

"_Babe_," I raised my eyebrow questioningly, "What kind of a scary beast you got hiding down there?"

"Damned bitch Gladys," she mumbled. "It's all her fault."


	7. Chapter 7

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 7

I was a nymphomaniacal slut, no question about it. My mother, God forbid she should ever find out about any of my sinfully outrageous behavior this evening, would totally and completely disown me. I'd never have pineapple upside down cake for the rest of my life. That would hurt: I love my mother's pineapple upside down cake desperately. I love dessert of just about any kind, come to think of it. The more it lacks in nutritional value, the more I crave it. Dessert, after all, is the base of my food pyramid. It's made me everything I am today. God help me.

Oh, yeah, I could hear my mother's horrified voice now: "Rosa Laszlofi's daughter would never pick up a strange man in a bar and immediately go get naked with him. Especially if she didn't know his name or invite him over to the house for dinner first." Never mind that Mara Laszlofi is 38, 210 lbs, and wouldn't know what to do with a man--naked or otherwise--if she fell over him. That's just beside the point. Trust me, there is no arguing with Ellen Plum on matters like this. "A man never buys the cow if he can get the milk for free." Tonight, I planned to give away all the free milk a certain Latino superhero sex god was willing to drink. I was a total and complete slut, all right. But based on that earlier experience where his magic fingers had given me the best orgasm I'd had in ages, at least I was going to be a well-satisfied slut.

I was also famished, and waiting impatiently for the delivery of the room service order I'd placed moments after the noisy beast in my stomach had ruined my daring attempt to grab the bull by the horns (as it were) and land my long-desired Doomsday Orgasm. The fact that said beast continued to growl non-stop now had put a temporary damper on my enthusiasm to launch a second seduction attempt.

Truth to tell, I kinda think Superman himself was glad I had backed off on my sex kitten routine: I caught him giving me amused looks and shaking his head in amazement and awe at the volume of some of the beast's rampant war-cries. In dire need of immediate sustenance, I'd been forced to consume both of the Snickers bars he'd purchased earlier. And I was kicking myself for not having grabbed a Three Musketeers bar and a few Reese's Peanut Butter Cups when he'd given me the opportunity.

I opened the door a crack and surreptitiously stuck my head outside to check on the noise I'd just heard in the corridor. I was hoping it was the trolley with the fortifications necessary to keep the beast at bay. But, knowing Tina and my nosy-parker brigade of girlfriends, I was also braced for the possibility that they'd staked out the room in order to get a look at my hot companion for the night. No way my earlier threat to Tina was going to win out over her almost-legendary nosiness--especially if there was a hot man and illicit sex involved. I wouldn't have ruled out her climbing under the room service trolley and getting wheeled into the room in order to grab a quick look-see. I'd have done it; I knew she thought the same way I did. Which was scary.

"Burning rubber, Babe," he drawled, coming up behind me and wrapping his arm around my waist.

"EEEKKK!" I shrieked, "Make some noise, will you?" I hadn't heard a thing: I swear he moves like a cat. A jungle cat, mysterious dark and dangerous. A predatory black panther stalking his helpless prey, ready to pounce on her and drag her back to his lair to mate with her with a primal savage lust that knew no bounds. Damn, I'm so horny I'm turning myself on!

"No need to: that's my job, Babe," he said, brushing a handful of curls off my neck and planting a soft kiss just below my ear.

"I said that out loud, didn't I?" I groaned.

He laughed, then pulled me out of the door and shut it firmly behind us. "A watched pot never boils. Haven't you ever heard that saying?"

"I don't want to watch a boiling pot. I want to eat my Fettuccini Alfredo. And my desserts. All 4 of them."

"Come over here and let me distract you."

"We already tried that. Unless you have some more candy bars hidden in that bag, I'm not interested in being distracted. I'm too hungry. I need to eat. I'm starving; I can't take it anymore. What the hell are they doing downstairs in the kitchen? Don't they understand they have a woman up here in dire need of nourishment?!"

"Babe. Relax. It's just dinner, not a religious experience."

"This from the man who ordered a Caesar salad, hold the everything! No wonder you aren't anxious to get your dinner. You didn't even order dessert."

"That's because I'm looking at her." Another wolf grin. "Yum yum."

"You're just lucky you're so damned hot. Because you can be pretty annoying sometimes." I worked mighty hard to keep a goofy smile off my face. In truth, I was feeling that 'yum yum' straight down to my doodah.

"You didn't even ask how I planned to distract you. Sure you don't want to know? Promise you'll enjoy it, Babe."

"Are you gonna give me that strip show you promised?" I asked hopefully. I could definitely be distracted that way.

"Maybe later. I was kinda thinking we might play a game first."

"What kind of game?" I questioned suspiciously.

"One I just made up a few minutes ago. It's called 'Anything Goes'."

"Are we gonna get naked in this game?"

"I sure hope so, Babe. That's the whole idea."

"I'm liking it a lot so far. Tell me more."

"Well, it seems to me we have a very unique opportunity here: we're basically strangers in the night, horny as hell, and we've agreed to spend the night satisfying all of our mutual desires."

"Plus you're going to ruin me for all other men."

"That too. So I was thinking: What if we cut right to the chase? Lay all of our cards on the table."

"I thought we already had. We're here, aren't we? Not downstairs having drinks and pretending to chat each other up about things that don't matter a rat's ass to either one of us."

"You have a point. But I mean....really cut to the chase, Babe. Be totally and completely honest with each other about what turns us on. Our wildest fantasies."

Gulp. "Like the handcuffs?" I squeaked, my voice barely audible.

"Yeah. That's exactly what I'm talking about."

"You told me you didn't have any handcuffs with you." Now I'd forgotten all about the damned Fettuccini Alfredo. Successful distraction technique, all right. Score one for Superman!

"Well, I don't. Unfortunately. But we can always make do using something else. If that's what turns you on, I mean. Necessity is the Mother of Invention, after all."

"I'm listening." I'm also getting major hot flashes, but I figured he probably already knew that.

"Here, take this pad of paper and this pen. Write down six of your wildest sexual fantasies. Don't hold anything back. Then I'll do the same with mine."

"No butt stuff," I gave him my Burg girl death glare.

"No butt stuff," he promised. A long pause. "Technically."

"Wait just a minute, here, Buddy! What the hell does that mean?" I didn't like the sound of that, and said so.

"It means I'm not putting my cock anywhere you don't want it to go," he clarified, "And if we read each other's fantasy and can't bring ourselves to do it, we can just pass on it. OK?"

"I guess."

"Don't sound too sure about that, Babe."

"I'm still trying to figure out that whole 'technically' thing."

"Babe."

"Why six?"

"Well, six for you and six for me comes out to twelve."

"Duh. I can count. So? Why twelve? Why not four or six or eight or ten?"

He held up the package of Magnum XXL condoms he'd purchased earlier. "Package of twelve. See? So we wrap one of these inside each of our fantasies, and we toss them into this." He held aloft the empty ice bucket. "Then we take turns pulling out one fantasy each. And we go for it. No holds barred."

"What if only yours get pulled, though? I don't want to get gypped out of anything here," I pouted unhappily. With my luck, I'd be very creative coming up with the best six fantasies in the world and I'd get none of them satisfied. That would suck, majorly.

"I thought of that, already," he assured me, "We do them all. Nobody gets gypped out of anything, Babe. Total ruination. Guaranteed."

I think I lost consciousness for a brief moment. "What do you mean 'we do them all'?"

"We have all night, Babe."

"That's twelve times." Eep!

"I can count." A big wolf grin.

I suddenly couldn't get my mouth and my brain to work together. "Umm…but…if…you…twelve times? In one night?! As in sex? Us? Twelve times?"

"I was thinking I could always head downstairs and get another box, if you want to try for more?" The bastard was enjoying this.

"You're insane."

"I'm horny, Babe."

"Well, so am I. But twelve times is a physical impossibility."

"Won't get much sleep. But who needs it, right? We can sleep tomorrow."

"I'm going to a wedding tomorrow afternoon. I can't stay up all night and have sex with you." Not that I wouldn't be willing. Mental head slap. Of course I can't. I'm a bridesmaid! I have to get my pictures taken tomorrow; I don't want to look like something the cat dragged in!

"You could try sleeping through it, but it wouldn't be as much fun. For either one of us."

"You are joking, right?"

"About the sleeping through it, yes. Not about the twelve times."

"When was the last time you had sex, anyway?"

"About as long ago as you."

"I find that very hard to believe."

"I've been away, Babe."

"Away? As in--jail?" Holy shit, what the hell did I get myself into here? I could hear my mother's long-suffering voice, "Why me? Ethel Szepessi's daughter never picks up ex-convict sex maniacs and has one night stands with them!"

"Away as in the Army, Babe."

"You were in the Army?"

"Yeah. Still am. I ship out Monday on another tour of duty."

I gave him the suspicious once-over. "I'm not seeing a crew cut and a uniform. Are you AWOL?" Shit, now I was going to have to worry about the Military Police breaking down the door and dragging his fine hot ass away before I got that promised Doomsday Orgasm. Damn Gladys, anyway! I could've already been satisfied, but no…bitch had to go to Atlantic City with our money!

"No, I'm not AWOL, Babe. I'm in a…particular situation that doesn't require regulation haircuts or uniforms." He started to look slightly uncomfortable. "Never mind the details, OK? I promise you, I'm not an ex-con or an escaped maniac."

"You're just horny."

"Very."

"And egotistical."

"Kinda."

"And overly ambitious."

"Not in the least."

"Twelve times."

"Guaranteed. Just write down your six fantasies, Babe. The kinkier the better. In explicit detail."

"My biggest kinkiest fantasy is more than twice in one night."

"Gotta aim higher than that, Babe. Much higher."

"Really kinky?"

"Live a little." He opened the box of Magnum XXL condoms and pushed six over to me. "Anything goes, Babe."

Gulp.

That's exactly what scared me.


	8. Chapter 8

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 8

I blame it entirely on the three or four chocolate martinis that were running rampant through my bloodstream on an empty stomach. And on the fact that I hadn't been laid in ages. Even then I'd only had Dickie Orr--and that was as good as _nothing_. Trust me on that. The bastard. And I blame my Hungarian hormones which were in complete overdrive as a result of my long-time deprived sexual state. And on the fact that it was supremely liberating sexually to imagine living out your wildest fantasies with a totally hot and horny stranger who you'll never see again so he can't ever remind you what a kinky freak you were one crazy October night when you abandoned all the good sense that God gave you and just let total lust consume you and…well, _you get the picture_!

Bottom line: it wasn't _my_ fault. None of it. It was _his_ fault. All of it. The sexy man in black who came up with this wickedly exciting game and now had me scribbling fast and furiously on the notepaper, my body temperature soaring to triple digits as my inner slut came out to play. And play she did. Oh boy, did she ever!

I peered up at him speculatively, nibbling on the tip of my pen. What should I ask for next? I already had four of my six fantasies written out in detail and neatly wrapped around the condoms, ready to drop into the bucket. I'd picked some real doozies, too. Holy Moly Mother of God, had I ever! In fact, I think I'd nearly had a mini-orgasm just writing the last one down: it was my best achievement ever. To think I was actually going to _get_ what I asked for, all night long….well, it was totally surreal.

I was still halfway expecting Alan Funt to jump out any minute with the entire _Candid Camera _crew in tow. There I'd be on national television, totally humiliated in front of everyone I knew. And completely dessert-less for the rest of my natural life once my mother heard from Myrtle Kripenski's second cousin Shirley who watched it on the big screen TV at the Senior Center that her daughter Stephanie Plum was a perverted sex crazed bimbo slut.

God only knows how many creepy men were going to get their rocks off just watching the episode! It probably would be the highest rated _Candid Camera _ever. And then I'd have to deal with hundreds of sex maniacs stalking me daily and sending me their icky underwear in the mail and calling me at all hours heavy breathing and telling me what _their_ secret kinky fantasies were. For sure, I'd end up on the cover of the _National Enquirer _as America's Biggest Kinkiest Sex Freak ever. Wait! How many countries aired _Candid Camera_, anyway? Maybe I would be a World-Wide Kinky Sex Freak?!

Oh, crap, I was now ready to hyperventilate over this whole damned thing!

"I need a paper bag," I blurted. "Quick!!"

"Breathe, Babe," he instructed calmly. "Getting a little scary over there."

"I'm really not cut out for this whole sex bomb thing."

"You're a natural, Babe. Look in the mirror. I've never seen a woman hotter or sexier than you are."

"You can't have looked very far, then."

"_Babe_." I got a 100 watt smile and an amused chuckle. "I've looked plenty. Trust me, you have more sex appeal than you can possibly imagine. You're unbelievably sexy! You can do this, Stephanie. And just relax: we won't do anything you don't want to do. Didn't I already promise you that?"

"That's not what I'm afraid of--not wanting to do it, I mean."

"Then what?"

"It's the _wanting _to do it that really scares me. You haven't seen my fantasies yet."

His smile increased to 200 watts instantly. "That sounds promising."

"You don't secretly work for Alan Funt, do you?"

"No, Babe. This is real."

"Just checking. I didn't think so."

I went back to writing my fifth fantasy--and this was the one that _really_ sent me over the top. I closed my eyes, imagining what he would look like completely naked…slathered with whipped cream…that I would then slowly lick off every delicious mocha latte inch of his hard muscular spectacularly well-endowed body while he begged for mercy. _Yummy. _Then I went back and added a few more details, remembering the four desserts I'd ordered from room service. Surely I could make better use of them on his body than eating them with a spoon? Oh, yeah. I could definitely do that. _Double yummy._

"You're definitely getting in the spirit of things," he teased, "I can hear you moaning from over here."

"It's not my fault."

"No worries, Babe."

"Omigod. I just realized that I'm a complete sex freak."

"Good, glad to hear it. The freakier the better."

"_XXXL_, right?" I couldn't wrap my short-circuiting brain around that concept.

"And every inch of it hard and ready, and at your command, all night long."

"Holy living shit." I fanned myself rapidly.

"Hey, Babe?"

"What?"

"If you think _you're_ a sex freak, just wait till you see _my_ fantasies." A huge wolf grin.

_Omigod! _"Are you trying to scare me?"

"Why? Is that what I'm doing?"

"No. You're getting me really really hot instead."

"Good, then it's working just fine."

"I'm so horny now I could scream." And I was. I was nearing nuclear meltdown.

"You'll be screaming all right: very soon, Babe. I promise you that."

"So then I guess you should tell me. Before the ruination begins. So I'm prepared."

"Tell you what, Babe?" He finished writing, and began wrapping the paper around the last condom in his pile.

"Your real name, Superman. So I know what to scream out when I'm finally getting my Doomsday Orgasm. Which I'm confidently expecting any time now, thanks to this killer of a fantasy I just finished concocting."

"Doomsday Orgasm, huh?" He raised one eyebrow interestedly. "What exactly is that?"

"The one where my whole vagina spontaneously combusts upon penetration and I enter an entirely new sexual dimension previously unknown and off-limits to all other mortal women."

"Must be some unbelievably hot fantasy you got going on there, Wonder Woman."

"Damned skippy, Superman."

"It's Carlos," he tossed the last of his papers into the bucket and pushed it across the table towards me. "My name is Carlos, Babe."

"Carlos," I repeated, trying unsuccessfully to roll my 'r' as he had. "Very sexy. Strong. Passionate. Like the man himself. Carlos."

He corrected me gently. "Carr-los. God, I love the way my name sounds on your lips, Babe."

"MMMMM, say something to me in Spanish," I whispered. I was tingling all over.

"Tu eres muy sexy, y me muero de ganas." His voice was liquid sex.

"What's that mean?" I didn't care what the hell it meant: I just wanted him to keep saying it. All night long.

"You're very sexy, and I'm very horny." A big wolf grin.

"Say something else," I purred. "Anything at all."

"Tu sonrisa es bonita, Estefanía, y me encantes." He stood up and moved towards me, and my heart started beating out of my chest.

"Which means what?"

"You have a beautiful smile, Stephanie, and you enchant me."

"Honestly? It gets me so totally hot when you speak Spanish to me, Carlos. I'm putting that right here in my sixth fantasy: I want you to talk to me in Spanish while you're fucking me. I might actually have an orgasm from the sound of your voice alone--and that's no lie."

"Te voy a hacer la sopa."

"I like the sound of that."

"You're going to like the feel of it even more, Babe. It's part of the fantasy I just finished writing."

"OK, so say it again and slowly."

He moved behind me and leaned down to whisper it into my ear. "Te voy a hacer la sopa."

"Now tell me what it means."

"I'm going to suck your pussy."

"Oh freaking hell, I just had an enormous tsunami of a hot flash!"

"Babe." He laughed in amusement, "You never disappoint."

"I can't help it." I kicked my feet in excitement, "GOD! I'm so fucking horny I'm going to explode any second now. Wait a minute! You put that in _your_ fantasy?" He nodded. "I just put that in _mine_."

He licked his lips slowly, a devilish grin on his face. "Double the pleasure, double the fun."

"Why did you put that in your fantasy?"

"Because I can't wait to taste your sweet pussy juices, and fuck you with my tongue and my mouth. Then use my fingers on you and make you crazy for more."

"You're a true God among men, Carlos," I sighed, worshipfully.

"So I've been told, Babe."

"Modest too. But since I can't even remember the last time anyone went down on me, I'm going to forgive that and just enjoy the plentiful bounty the Spanish Sex God is willing to bestow on me tonight."

"Cuban, Babe. And you're telling me Dickie didn't go down on you? At all?" He said _'Dickie' _with such disdain that I couldn't help laughing.

"Nope. Dickie didn't do much of _anything_ for me in bed, truth be told. Then the bastard had the fuckin' nerve to cheat on me on top of it."

"He's a colossal ass for many reasons."

"Truer words ain't never been spoken, Superman."

"And Babe? For the record?"

"Yeah?"

"It's in _three_ of my fantasies, not just one."

"_Omigod! _Then I'll worship at your altar, oh mighty Cuban Sex God Carlos the Super Hot and All Powerful Hunk of Burning Love." I wasn't kidding, either. Holy living shit! I was gonna get eaten _four_ times in one night? And fucked _twelve_ times? Stephanie Plum was one very very happy woman right about now!

"Estoy loco por ti, Babe. Desde que te conocí no hago nada más que pensar en ti."*

Just then a knock sounded at the door, preventing me from pressing for a translation.

"Room service finally got here, Babe. You want to get it or shall I?"

"Can you do it, please? I want to finish writing number six before I lose my train of thought." I kept scribbling, embellishing on my latest masterpiece. I was making damned certain I got myself a lot of Spanish and a heaping helping of that 'hacer la sopa' he was offering up so freely tonight. Yep, that sounded mighty good to me, all right! It surely did!

I completed writing just as the waiter wheeled the trolley into the room. Carlos paid the check and saw the waiter out. Sighing happily, I dumped my sixth and final fantasy into the bucket and turned to where he stood watching me, a warm smile on his handsome face.

"Let's eat so we can get to the best part of the evening," I invited, looking over at the Holy Grail which contained twelve sizzling hot pieces of paper and twelve condoms. I couldn't wait to see what he'd chosen for us to do! Whatever it was, I knew damned well I would enjoy every single second of it!

He held out his hand and pulled me into his arms where he kissed me surprisingly tenderly. "You mean, let's feed _your _beast and lock him up for the night. So that I can finally unleash _mine_."

I grinned wickedly. Yeah, _that_ was exactly what I meant, all right: I was definitely more than ready to meet the XXXL beast!

Oh boy, was I _ever_ ready!

Come on, you big hot naughty red-hot Cuban beastie: _come to Momma_!!

***

_*You drive me crazy, Babe. Since I met you I do nothing else but think about you. _


	9. Chapter 9

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 9

_Carlos' POV_

I've never met anyone who could give me a hard-on merely by watching her eat Fettuccini Alfredo. It was the way she was slurping the noodles slowly and thoroughly, rapturously moaning in a pre-orgasmic bliss that just killed me. Her heavy-lidded eyes actually rolled back in her head no less than three times, and she licked her pouty lips slow and sensuously rather than simply dabbing them dry and clean with the cloth napkin that sat unused on her lap. I could very easily visualize those delicious lips sucking a very prominent portion of my anatomy, and I was eagerly anticipating at least two of my detailed fantasies which had her doing just that--among other very pleasurable things. If I could ever get her away from the damned pasta, that is.

"Christ, Babe," I finally begged raggedly, "have mercy!"

She looked up in stunned surprise, and I could see she was completely unaware what she'd been doing to my poor body. When she finally realized my desperate condition, she blushed prettily and whispered a soft, "Oops! Sorry." Then five minutes later she was unconsciously back to slurping and moaning again. What can I say? The woman clearly loved her Fettuccini Alfredo!

I'd never met _anyone_ like Stephanie before. Sensual, lusty and impulsive beyond belief. How the hell I'd gotten lucky enough to meet her--let alone spend the evening with her living out my wildest kinkiest fantasies--I hadn't a clue. Obviously the planets had aligned in my favor tonight, not that I deserved my good fortune. But I'm an opportunist; so I'd grabbed the opportunity when it was offered, and I sure wasn't letting go anytime soon.

I don't think I tasted a mouthful of the Caesar salad, I was too distracted watching my lovely companion and trying to predict just what she'd written down for her six choices. Obviously, _she_ thought they were daring; but then, it was apparent to me she didn't have very much sexual experience at all, despite her beauty. That horse's ass of an ex-husband of hers hadn't been pleasuring his woman at all, so somehow I expected that she'd be over the moon for just a few powerful orgasms no matter _how _the hell she managed to get them.

Well, _she _might not be very creative, but I was certain _I_ had been. Together, we'd both come out very satisfied people tonight. I was committed to giving her that long-desired Doomsday Orgasm, and watching her face as she rocketed to the 'entirely new sexual dimension previously unknown and off-limits to all other mortal women'. My very own Wonder Woman! My beautiful deliciously sexy Babe!

"MMMMMMM," she sighed happily, smacking her lips, finally pushing away her almost empty plate. "That was so good! You have no idea how sinfully scrumptious that was!"

"Glad you enjoyed, Babe," I indicated her untouched desserts: all four of them. "So, which one is it going to be? Tiramisu? Hot Fudge Sundae? Chocolate Mousse? Or Chocolate Cheesecake with Raspberry Sauce?"

She giggled, "I really think I'm gonna surprise you with that choice, Superman."

"_Really_?" I lifted an eyebrow questioningly. What was she up to, anyway? I was more than intrigued. "How so?"

She dipped two slender fingers into the pool of raspberry sauce that surrounded her slice of cheesecake, then lifted it to her lips and ever so slowly and sensuously licked her fingers clean. Her eyes twinkled wickedly. "I'm willing to share, Carlos. Want a taste?"

"Of something," I agreed, leaning in for a long deep kiss. "Not raspberries, though."

"You don't like raspberries?" she whispered teasingly, "What about _this_? You like this instead?" She stroked her fingers over the whipped cream from her Sundae and then seductively painted it on my bottom lip, diving in then to suck it off greedily.

I moaned low and deep, "Oh, yeah--I like that a lot, Babe."

"And what about _this_? You like this too, Carlos?" She followed the whipped cream with a dab of hot fudge that somehow smeared down my chin--followed by her hungry mouth. The touch of her tongue flicking over my skin sent sparks shooting through my veins.

"That's even better." I slid my hand into her hair and pulled her head closer so that I could deepen the kiss.

We traded lazy wet kisses for several minutes, until she pulled away framing my face with her hands. She met my eyes, surprising me with her quiet intensity. "I'm ready to be ruined for all other men now, Superman."

"You sure about that, Babe?" I growled. "No coming back from where we're going."

Her voice was a husky purr, "Let the Ruination begin!"

And begin it did, just a few moments later. I held the bucket out and indicated that she should draw the first selection. I think we both held our breath; the air was electric with sexual tension.

She opened the paper slowly, and I watched her eyes carefully. Instantly, I could tell from her lack of surprise as she read the description that the fantasy she'd selected from the bucket was one of hers and not one of mine. I caught the lascivious sparkle in her very expressive eyes, and knew damned well that this was one of her favorites…if not _'the' _favorite of all.

"Babe?" I questioned, trying to keep a smile off my face.

"You said 'Anything Goes', right?" she questioned, licking her lips nervously.

I felt my body tingling in anticipation. "Yes, that's what I said."

"You meant it? Whatever I have on this paper you're going to go along with?"

"Don't like the sound of that, Babe," I teased.

Actually I felt myself getting hard from the sheer thought of whatever the hell she might have written that made her so damned sure I would refuse to do it. I'd meant what I said when I suggested the game: I was pretty damned kinky in the bedroom when I had a woman I really trusted and one I wanted so badly. Stephanie qualified on both counts.

She handed me the paper without another word, and I read it with the greatest of curiosity. My cock hardened instantly. I'd never have expected _this_ choice from the oh-so-easily-blushing Stephanie, but I was more than ready to comply. In fact, I was aching to start, and nodded my assent silently. Her blue eyes widened, she gulped, and then her posture straightened regally.

"Very well. Let us begin. I am Intergalactic Princess Stephanie of the Planet Chambersburg. Henceforth, you shall address me only as 'Your Magnificence', is that clear?"

"Yes, Your Magnificence," I responded, my voice husky in arousal.

"You are my sex slave. You exist only for my gratification. You have no name. You have no importance other than to pleasure me. You will submit instantly to any order I deign to give you, and you will not question me in any way. Otherwise I shall be forced to severely punish you for your insolence."

"I understand, Your Magnificence." Christ, I was hard as a rock already.

"I would hate to be forced to mar your fine smooth mocha latte hued skin with lashes, but I shall discipline you if you displease me in any way. Do you understand, Slave?"

Her voice was icy, her demeanor haughty. I wanted to rip that tiny red dress off her voluptuous body and fuck her senseless where she stood.

"Yes, Your Magnificence."

"Tell me what your purpose is, Slave."

"My sole purpose, Your Magnificence, is to pleasure your gloriously beautiful and incredibly hot delectable body in any and every way that you wish. I live only to service you and obey your every command."

"You find me desirable, Slave?" She pierced me with her stare, and I saw just the slightest--oh the very slightest--hint of a smirk on her sensuous lips. My Babe was loving this, every single second of it. So was I.

"No more desirable woman has ever drawn breath in the history of the Universe, Your Magnificence." That much was true--I wanted her more than I'd ever wanted anyone in my life. Now more than ever. She continued to surprise me. And she never disappointed.

"You then realize how extremely fortunate you are to be granted this unique opportunity to pleasure me?"

"I am fortunate beyond my wildest expectations, Your Magnificence."

"You are indeed, Slave. See that your performance lives up to the great opportunity you have been granted. If I am not euphoric in sexual bliss within minutes I shall cut off your cock and feed it to Rex, the Mighty Beast Protector of My Planet. He is a fierce ferocious beast and you will die a terrible death."

"I shall not fail you, Your Magnificence. I shall have you screaming in supreme orgasmic delight so powerful that your cries will echo through the galaxy."

"We shall see," she sniffed dismissively. "Many Slaves talk a fine game, but then are severely lacking in length and girth of equipment. I suppose _you_ claim to have the necessary tools to satisfy my appetites so completely that I shall not need to hunt up another Slave and use him for my gratification?"

"I am confident that my equipment will be more than adequate to meet Your Magnificence's highest standards."

"Very well. You may undress for me now. Remove your shirt, Slave. Then toss it on the floor and let me examine your body thoroughly."

"I hear and obey, Your Magnificence."

I locked eyes with Stephanie---Princess Stephanie of Chambersburg that is--and began to slowly unbutton my black silk shirt, never breaking eye contact with her. I knew damned well I had a great body: not an ounce of fat, with broad shoulders, well-defined muscles, an eight pack and a flat washboard stomach. I saw her blue eyes darken in arousal as they traveled over every inch of me carefully. I could see from her lustful expression that she was definitely quite impressed.

She flashed back to my eyes and stiffened immediately. She was playing the Intergalactic Bitch Princess to the hilt, I had to give her props for that. I was so turned on I could barely keep from moaning in agony; I wanted her so damned badly.

"You find me _amusing_, Slave?" Her frigid tone challenged me.

"No, Your Magnificence. I dare not do so. Instead, I find you extraordinarily stunning and deliciously sexy."

"I believe I saw the hint of a smile on your unworthy lips, Slave. I am concerned that your attitude is less than satisfactory. I do not appreciate your impertinence."

"Forgive me, Your Magnificence. I am only a mere mortal man, overwhelmed by the succulence of your delectable body. I mean no offence to your Imperial Splendiforousness."

"You want to fuck me so bad," she smirked.

"Damn straight I do," I admitted.

"Very well, Slave," she resumed her Imperial Haughtiness, and we both put our game faces back on for the rest of the show. "You may continue to attempt to interest me in your possibilities as a sex partner for the evening."

"Thank you, Your Magnificence. I grovel at your temptingly red stiletto heeled feet."

"Indeed you do, as well you should. You are deeply unworthy, Slave. Remember that, and all might be well yet. Now: remove your belt and drop your pants. I wish to examine the equipment you hold in such high regard. Keep in mind that if it does not meet my supremely high standards for man meat, Rex the Mighty Beast Protector of My Planet will dine on your prized possessions this evening."

SHIT! That was pretty damned scary, I have to admit. Instinctively I winced, and watched Princess Stephanie struggle desperately to hide a huge smug grin.

I was speechless for a minute, then rallied with, "I do not think the Mighty Beast Rex will have the opportunity to do so, Your Magnificence. I have every expectation that my 'prized possessions' will be otherwise occupied tonight."

"How so, Slave?"

"Servicing Your Magnificence, of course."

I unbuckled my belt and slid it out of my jeans. I was about to drop it to the floor when she again surprised me. She took the belt from my hands and folded it, as she met my eyes challengingly. I knew damned well what she was planning, and my cock grew another few inches just thinking about it. I unbuttoned my jeans, unzipped my fly and dropped my black jeans to my feet.

My 11 inch cock sprang free, proud and hard and ready to fuck the living hell out of Intergalactic Princess Stephanie of Chambersburg. She damned near dropped the belt, and I saw her eyes widen to the size of saucers. I bit down on my lip to prevent the ear to ear grin that threatened to split my face. I watched her eyes, which were riveted to my fully erect cock, and then I almost lost my composure completely when I noticed that her mouth had opened and a tiny river of drool was beginning to flow from the left side of her beautiful mouth.

"I hope I please Your Magnificence with my humble offering."

"Damn skippy," she sounded dazed.

"I beg your pardon, Your Magnificence?" OK, so I was a smart ass: I couldn't resist.

There was a long pause while she desperately struggled to get back into character. "I suppose you'll have to do. But truly, I've seen better," she sniffed in boredom.

_The hell she had! _"Would that have been that of Lord Dickie the Prick of Chambersburg, your former Consort?" I asked pointedly.

"Insolent unworthy Slave! You displease me greatly! I shall have to punish you now. I want you naked and on your hands and knees instantly."

God, I swear, I was ready to come right then and there! I wasted no time in complying with her orders, and--as expected--she fondled my leather belt, and took her own sweet time in showing me what she planned to do with it. When she seemed satisfied that I was not going to object, she stepped behind me and I felt the leather sliding across my tight ass, almost caressing me on both cheeks. I readied myself for the blow or blows I knew would come momentarily.

"Your insolence has brought this necessary correction upon yourself."

"Yes, Your Magnificence. I deserve to be disciplined for my outrageously inappropriate words."

"Indeed you do, Slave. And so you shall be."

The lashes--there were six strokes--came hard and fast. I groaned as the pleasure disguised as pain seared through my welcoming body. Then the leather returned to caress me, and I heard her drop the belt and walk towards the bed.

My cock was so rock hard and ready for action that I could have gladly screamed in frustration. I remained in place on my hands and knees, hoping like hell for that long-awaited command. I heard the rasp of a zipper and moments later a red satin dress was pitched on the floor in front of me. I held my breath, hardly daring to turn my head to see how gorgeous she looked finally naked.

I felt the rush of air and saw a flash of navy blue as the down comforter was tossed carelessly off the king sized bed. I heard a rustle as the cotton sheets were pushed down to follow it. I swallowed, my eyes sparkling and my body singing in anticipation.

"You may rise and now approach my hot, naked and extremely horny body, lowly Slave."

"Thank you, Your Magnificence. I quiver in anticipation."

I rose to my feet and turned to look at Stephanie. She was a vision of loveliness, her riot of curly brown hair cascading over the pillow and her smooth deliciously shaped body recumbent upon the bed. I drank in her beauty, memorizing every tempting inch of her.

"Get your gorgeous body and that enormous XXXL cock over here _now_, Slave!"

"I hear and obey, Your Magnificence. I live only to---"

"Shut the hell up and fuck me, wise ass!"

I grinned, and made double time for the bed. I grabbed the condom from the nightstand, and dressed myself quickly.

We were both ravenous, and fell upon each other, feeding greedily. I was stunned--and thrilled--to see just how uninhibited and utterly ferocious Stephanie was in bed. The woman was a tiger, like no one I'd ever experienced before. Our mouths fused to each other, in a seemingly never-ending kiss that threatened to cause us both to spontaneously combust.

I'd honestly anticipated that our first time would be slow, that Stephanie would need to be coaxed to relax before she was prepared to take my enormous length into her body. I couldn't have been more wrong. She spread her legs almost instantly; and her confident hand reached between my legs to grasp my throbbing cock and guide it to her warm center. The woman knew what she wanted, and she was prepared to take it without hesitation.

I broke the kiss reluctantly, "Babe, you're not ready yet. Let me---"

"The hell I'm not!" she snarled, her eyes flashing dangerously, "I've been ready for this since the first moment I laid eyes on you. Fuck me! Now!"

Damn! I was more than willing to comply! In one powerful thrust, I plunged my cock into her, burying it to the hilt. She screamed, a mix of both pain and pleasure. I'll remember that sound for the rest of my life. She wrapped her arms tightly around my back, pulling me closer, and slid her hands down to cup my ass--still sore from the lashes she'd given me with my own belt. I allowed her a minute to adjust to my magnitude.

Her eyes glittered with a primitive passion. "God, you feel so fucking good!" she hissed, wrapping her legs around my waist and crossing her ankles. "Ride me, Carlos. Hard and fast. Give me everything--I want it all! Pound me senseless. Make me scream!"

I was her Slave; I could do no less. I kissed her deeply and started pistoning inside her.

Neither one of us lasted long. We were both screaming by the time we hit our mutual release. Moments later, I rolled off her, and we lay on our backs silently, boneless and completely exhausted. It took awhile for us to catch our breath, and honestly, there were no words. It had been absolute Heaven. I was pretty damned sure that I'd entered that 'entirely new sexual dimension' she'd mentioned earlier. It was a pretty damned great place to be: I planned to stay there all night long.

"Finally, an honest man," came a soft throaty whisper, as Stephanie regained her power of speech. "Truth in advertising. What a concept."

I grinned, "How's Your Magnificence doing?"

"Fucking fantastic. How about you, lowly Slave?"

"Never better."

"Ain't that the truth," she purred contentedly. "You were _amazing_. I'm a very happy Intergalactic Princess."

"You've got a hell of an imagination there, Babe."

"Surprised you, huh?"

"God, yeah. In the best possible way."

"How's that fine hot little Cuban ass of yours?"

"Sore, Babe."

"I didn't think you'd let me do that."

"You'd be surprised what I'll let you do, Babe."

"OOOOHHHH! I just got another hot flash."

"Rex the Mighty Beast, Protector of Your Planet?"

"Should've seen your face, Superman."

"Baiting the tiger, Babe."

"What's that mean?"

"It means, wait till you see what I have in store for _you_. It's gonna make 'Rex the Mighty Beast' look like a tame little pussy cat."

There was a long silence.

"You meant what you said before about being kinky in the bedroom, didn't you?"

"Truth in advertising, Babe."

"_Omigod_."

"Be afraid, Babe--be _very _afraid."

I climbed out of bed and headed for the bucket which contained eleven more fantasies. The night was still young.


	10. Chapter 10

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 10

"Not looking too good here, Babe," Carlos sighed sadly, having just opened the paper defining our scheduled second fantasy of the evening. "No, not good for you at all. Sad to say."

I was shocked and majorly disappointed. "It's mine, right? And you totally hate it, don't you? I bet I know which one it is! Shit, I was so looking forward to that one, too."

He shook his head, dismissing me, then ambled over to the closet and casually began looking through my clothes. Then, to my amazement, he helped himself to--of all things--the ice blue silk halter dress that I was scheduled to wear tomorrow afternoon as a bridesmaid in Stella Markowitz' wedding! "This will do nicely."

"Excuse me?" Now I was completely clueless. "Do nicely for _what_?"

"Your costume, Babe. What else?"

"_Costume_? What do you mean, _costume_? That's my bridesmaid's dress!"

"Pretty. Blue is your color, Babe. Don't worry: I'll try real hard not to rip it off you before I ravish you to within an inch of your life." He seemed entirely serious. Scary.

"Are you _kidding_ me? You can't tear my bridesmaid's dress off me! I have to wear that tomorrow in front of like _250 people_! And get my picture taken in it, no less! It's bad enough I'm gonna have huge black shopping bags under my eyes thanks to getting absolutely no sleep tonight---"

"You're wasting my fantasy time," he advised me, tossing the dress carelessly at me and hitting me in the head with it. "Got any stockings?"

"Wait just a minute here, Cecil B. DeMille," I interrupted, carefully lifting the silken curtain off my head and giving him my most annoyed Burg girl stare, "I thought you said we weren't doing the fantasy, anyway? And I don't remember writing one down that required a costume."

"It's not _yours_, Babe--it's _mine_."

"But you said it didn't look good! The fantasy, I mean! I thought you were turning down my---"

"Whatever it is you're hoping for, Babe, I'll do it. I told you before: the kinkier the better. I did the last one and had a hell of a good time. I'm sure I'll enjoy your other five just as much. But this time it's _my_ turn. And for my fantasy, you need a _costume_."

"Not _this _one. No. Not happening. No way." I crossed my arms mutinously and held firm. For all the good it did me.

"_Babe. _Are you going to put it on now--or am I going to have to come over there and put it on you myself? Because _trust me_, it has a really good chance of getting torn if I have to do that." His voice was calm and cool and totally serious. This guy wanted me in that dress and however the hell I got there mattered not a lot to him.

_Eep. _I was now re-examining his earlier comments and wondering if what he'd been telling me was that I was not going to like this fantasy because it was going to take me out of my comfort zone. This did not sound good.

"I want to read this thing right now, before I even touch this dress. Where is it?" I scrambled up from the bed, still naked, and launched myself in his direction. I came to a complete halt when I saw him turn back and again start rooting through the closet. "What the hell are you doing _now_??"

"Just shopping for your next few costumes, Babe. These are perfect." He held aloft my black thigh-high patent leather stiletto boots with a big wolf grin on his face. "Oh yeah, these are gonna go _real_ good for what I have planned next." He set them aside and began a search through my dresser drawer.

By this time I had grabbed the paper with the fantasy he'd just pulled out of the bucket. I'd read it--three times no less--and my poor eyes were still twirling. "Geez, Louise! You _are_ one kinky guy, aren't you, Superman?"

He smirked, "This character judgment is coming from an _Intergalactic Princess_? I'm shattered."

"_Pervert_." I stepped back and deliberately ogled his naked body. Damn, he was looking fine. And even flaccid, the XXXL cock was looking mighty impressive. Oh, yeah. It sure did. Mental head slap. _Concentrate, Steph. You're trying to needle him, not get yourself so turned on you push him down on the floor and fuck him senseless. _Although, hell, that would have been a good fantasy number seven….

"I don't see you dressed yet, Babe."

_Gulp_. He sounded kinda scary there. "You wouldn't really---?"

"You have 4 minutes and counting. And yes, I sure as hell will. No hesitation whatsoever. I'll even enjoy doing it, so--"

_Danger! Danger!_ I felt a familiar tingling deep in my doodah and immediately started putting the dress on post-haste. "I take it I'm not wearing any underwear with this?"

"Smart girl. Less I have to rip off that way."

"Good thing, too. You already tore off one pair of my panties tonight. I didn't bring a whole suitcase full, you know."

"You brought enough for the next few costumes, though." He held aloft one of my most daring Victoria's Secret purchases. "_This_ is gonna set off those boots perfectly."

OK, that sounded _really_ kinky, all right. I was so deeply in over my head now it was frightening. Especially since I realized I was actually starting to get wet just thinking about what he was planning on doing to me. Omigod. He was a kinky sex freak and so was I! This was so going to get really really hot and nasty. And soon. _Gulp. _

I finished adjusting the dress as he watched, his eyes darkening from chocolate brown to obsidian. I also saw the beginnings of a hard-on, and bit my lip nervously. "So what's _your_ costume going to be for this big production number?"

"You'll find out. Close your eyes. And don't move."

"What are you going to do now?" Oh, damn, I was getting another hot flash!

"Do it." His voice was a low growl.

So I did: I stood motionless for the next few minutes, and felt more than heard him leave the room and then return. I swallowed and realized I somehow had collected the entire Sahara Desert in my mouth.

Suddenly I felt my wrists being pulled firmly in front of me, and wrapped tightly with something. Nylon? Oh shit: my stockings! My hands were bound now. _Omigod. Omigod. Omigod. _I so did _not _like this, now that it was a reality. I mean, OK, I thought about it, kinda, with the whole handcuffs thing we teased about earlier. It sounded exciting then. But nope, I wasn't liking it at all now. _Omigod. Omigod. Omigod._

"Little change of plans with the back story, Babe." He took me by the shoulders and guided me over a few steps and positioned me where he evidently wanted me to stand.

"Back story?" I squeaked. _That sounds too much like butt stuff._

"Babe, for cryin' out loud, will you stop giving me ideas about the butt stuff? I told you I wasn't going there."

"'_Technically_', you said," I reminded him worriedly. I still didn't like the sound of _that_.

"Back story as in the plot of the fantasy, Stephanie. You need to chill, Babe. Relax, it'll be more fun that way."

"You can't change the fantasy once you write it down! That's the rule."

"No rules. It's _my _fantasy, for _my_ enjoyment. Did I tell you that you couldn't do something you wanted to do?"

"No." _Shit. _I was in so much trouble. I just knew it. This was definitely not good.

"There's good news and there's bad news. Which do you want first?"

Duh? What a dumb ass question that was! I _always_ wanted the good news first. Hell, he could keep the bad news: _I _sure as shit didn't want it!

"You can open your eyes now, Babe."

I did. And blinked. "You're wearing a towel."

"Good eyes, Babe."

"_That's _your costume?"

"Kinda limited in choice of wardrobe, Babe, since this is your room, not mine. I only have my jeans and my shirt here, and neither are appropriate for what I have planned right now."

"Which is?"

"You read it. You tell me."

"I'm your prisoner. And you're going to do a lot of kinky sex things to me."

"That about sums it up nicely."

"And I can't fight back."

"Well, technically, you _can _if you want to. Actually, it'll kinda be hotter for both of us if you do."

"Says you."

"Babe, trust me: you're going to enjoy it." His voice had softened, and I was stunned to see him…_wink_??

My tummy fluttered.

"You're OK with this, right, Babe?"

"I guess," I mumbled less than graciously. "I _hate_ being a prisoner of war, though." Wonder Woman in bondage. That just felt all deeply _wrong_, somehow. But why? There was a reason why, I knew it. I was just so discombobulated now, I was having trouble focusing on it.

"Don't think of it as being a prisoner of war, then: think of it as being a very special hostage. Under house arrest until important negotiations are concluded between the warring factions."

"I'm still waiting for the good news. And dreading the bad. Why don't we cut to the chase here: spit it out while the night is still young."

I saw his lips twitch in what I suspected was the beginnings of a smile. He was finding my petulance amusing again. _Bastard._

"The good news is, you're back to being Intergalactic Princess Stephanie of Chambersburg." He tugged teasingly at a curl and tucked it behind my ear gently.

I brightened. "_I am_?" This had definite possibilities after all! I was still an Intergalactic Princess!

"The bad news is, good old Rex the Mighty Beast wasn't such a great Protector of Your Planet after all. He bit the dust in a savage battle with invading forces. Your planet was conquered and Your Magnificence was captured by the enemy. Namely _me_."

_Shit. _This sucked royally.

"And just who the hell are _you _supposed to be? In your little white towel?" I groused unhappily. "If you're supposed to be the enemy, I gotta tell you: you don't look very scary to me at all."

"That's only because I haven't started trying yet. Believe me, Babe, I can be scary as all hell when I put my mind to it. So hear and obey, Your Former Magnificence, or else--"

"Or else _what_?" I sulked unhappily.

"I'll use that leather belt on your cute little royal butt and see just how 'technically' you like that."

"You wouldn't dare!" I huffed, deeply outraged.

He leaned in slowly, holding my bound wrists, "Just _watch me_, Babe. You know what they say, don't you?"

"What do they say?" I bit my lip, shivering in arousal as his hand slid around to cup my butt cheeks.

"Payback's a bitch."

_Shit. _I quickly lowered my eyes before he saw just how horny he was making me with his caressing hands and his husky voice and his naked muscular chest and his extremely fine 11 inch totally mesmerizingly hot cock. "Fine. But I am so not going to enjoy this."

"Too bad. Because I know _I_ sure am." A big wolf grin. "Ready?"

"_Whatever_." I rolled my eyes long-sufferingly.

Suddenly, he pulled me towards him for a brutally intense kiss. I mean the 'I'm gonna tear your clothes off in 30 seconds flat' type kiss, too. I took all of 1.5 seconds to kiss him back just as savagely. Hey, we were at war, right? I was just doing what was expected of me. That's my story, anyway. Intergalactic Princess Stephanie wasn't _enjoying _fraternizing with the enemy, no way, no how. Rex-killer that he was. No, I was only playing tonsil hockey with Darth Vader or Genghis Khan--or whoever the hell he was supposed to be--because it was expected of me in our fantasy. Not because I was remembering what a spectacularly fine piece of perfectly molded and expertly functioning XXXL equipment he was sporting under that little white towel that hung so low on his exquisite mocha latte hips that I could see a wispy soft dark brown happy trail disappearing underneath it. One that I knew ended at the Promised Land.

Crap! I was gonna be really damned good and lucky if I didn't tear my _own_ damned bridesmaid dress off and just jump his hot practically naked body where he stood! Kinky nymphomaniac slut that I was.

"Do you know who I am?" he barked at me, interrupting my lustful musings and taking me by complete surprise.

I blinked. Shit. He did that scary thing really really well! "No. Who are you?" I eeped. Besides the most delectable delicious scrumptious piece of man flesh I've ever seen in all my 26 years, that is.

"I am the dreaded Dark Lord Carlos the Insatiable, All Powerful Scourge of the Galaxy." It might have sounded ridiculous coming out of anyone else's mouth, but trust me--he made it sound HOT. Majorly majorly hot. And scary at the same time. The 'Insatiable' part I knew from first hand experience to be true. The 'Scourge' part I was willing to bet might well be, too, if and when he was pissed for real.

"Ummm…." I found myself staring at his brown obscenely perfect nipples, then lowered my eyes to his navel, then lowered them still to his happy trail….

"Speak!" He barked commandingly.

"Hello, pleased to meet you?" I offered, still dizzily enchanted with the happy trail that was pointing the way to that 11 inches of spectacular woman-thrilling, ruination inducing man meat that I hoped to be seeing up close and personal anytime now.

"_Babe_." He sounded both disgusted and amused at the same time.

"Are you gonna take off that towel really soon?" I asked hopefully, eyes still riveted to the portion of his anatomy I missed the most. I was such a colossal failure as a hostage. Intergalactic Princess Stephanie of Chambersburg had been well and truly ruined, too. She was now a complete slut of the most embarrassing degree.

"Can you at least _try_ to work with me here, Babe?" His voice drew my attention back to his face, and I shrugged sheepishly.

"Sorry. It's really not my fault." _You're just too damned hot for your own good. _

He actually rolled his eyes at me.

"I said that out loud again, didn't I?"

"_Babe_."

"I'm gonna do better, I promise." I waved my wrists dramatically, "EEEKKK! Unhand me, you lustful lascivious beast!" I'm sure I looked as stupid as I felt.

"Is that honestly the best I'm going to get out of you with this fantasy, Steph?" He put his hands on his hips unhappily and tried his own version of the Burg death glare.

"Can I rip your little towel off now?" I looked longingly at his crotch.

"You're the _prisoner_, Babe. _I'm _doing the ripping off of any clothes, not you."

"OK, so could you rip your own towel off then? And do it really really soon please?"

"If I do, would that scare you so that we can get this train wreck of a fantasy back on track?"

"You want me to be scared?" I asked, honestly clueless. I thought the point was to get us both horny? Evidently not.

"That's kind of the whole point, don't you think? You're a prisoner of the dreaded Dark Lord Carlos the Insatiable, All Powerful Scourge of the Galaxy."

"I really like the Insatiable part," I congratulated him, "That's such a tremendously hot name. I'm actually starting to appreciate the towel thing a lot, too."

"Thanks, Babe. Now can we get back to my fantasy while the night is still remotely young?"

"Maybe if we skip the scary stuff and just get right to the 'get naked and let's fuck' part? I can do that part so good, I swear you won't have any complaints at all."

His mouth twitched again. "I guess maybe we better skip right to that, then."

"OK," I nodded my agreement. "Whenever you're ready, Dark Lord Carlos Your Insatiable Hotness." I honestly couldn't remember the rest of the name he'd rattled off, other than that 'Scourge' thing--and I really thought the Hotness title I gave him was a big improvement over his own version. After all, there were no absolute _rules_ in these fantasies, right? He did say that, didn't he?

He stepped behind me, and an instant later I felt his calloused hands exploring my body, cupping my bare shoulders and sliding down to my forearms as he pressed his body tightly to mine. His voice was quiet but now deadly serious as he whispered into my ear, "You belong to me, Stephanie. Totally and completely. Your body is _mine_. I will take what I want, when I want and you will enjoy every minute of it. You are no longer in command of anything or anyone. Including yourself. I own you, body and soul."

I felt my pulse quicken and the heat rush to all points south. He wasn't scaring me, but he was sure as hell getting me wet and hot and very ready to fuck.

"There is no point to fighting it," his hands now roamed greedily over the exposed skin on my back, his fingers burning like the hottest flames. "You have no will of your own. You will obey my every command without question." His hands moved to my waist, and then slid up to cup my breasts. Braless, my nipples hadn't a hope in hell of staying modestly where a good little Burg girl's should be. They perked up and, like the traitors they were, pebble hard they raced to meet his fingers.

I moaned softly, my body relaxing and leaning back to rub against his. We were skin to skin as my bare back met his bare chest. He nipped my earlobe, and his hands began kneading my breasts expertly. I was ready to do any damned thing he told me to, if only he'd keep his hands on me. One hand returned momentarily to push my hair off my neck, then moved back to my breast. He leaned in to drop hot wet kisses along my neck. Moments later I felt his hands rolling my nipples through the silk as his tongue laved a path down my neck and over my bare shoulder blade. His lips kissed their way back up my moistened skin, causing me to tremble in excitement.

"You must surrender to my will, lovely Princess Stephanie. Yield to the dark forces I command. You have no hope of resisting me." His voice was strong and confident.

"But--the truth is--I don't even _want_ to resist you," I admitted softly. And I didn't.

"Why is that?" There was something imperceptibly different in his tone now. But what? I couldn't tell: I was too hypnotized by the feel of his hands and the sound of his voice.

"Because I want you far too much." And I wasn't playing a part in a fantasy, either.

"Tell me what you want to do to me." His hands freely roamed my body, sending me into transports of delight. I could feel his hardness pressing against me, and I closed my eyes and gave a little whimper as I undulated over his cock, teasing it.

"I want to touch you," I whispered, "And stroke you. Lick you. Take you into my mouth and suck you. Cup your balls and play with them while I run my tongue over your huge delicious cock and make you hard and ready to fuck me."

"Then what do you want?" His voice grew heavy with lust, and his cock was now rock hard beneath the towel. He had turned my head to the side with a surprisingly gentle touch, so that his mouth was now dropping feather soft kisses along my jaw line.

"I want you to touch me all over, play with my body, tease me, and torment me until I feel like I'm going to lose my mind if I can't have you inside me."

"And then what?" He had stepped around, now standing in front of me, his black eyes burning into mine. I couldn't look away. "What do you want me to do then, Stephanie?"

"I want you to fuck me over and over and never stop. I want you so far inside me that I feel you everywhere. So close and so deep inside me that I don't know where I end and you begin."

There was a long silence.

"Then I guess I'd better untie your hands so we can do that, huh?"

Nodding, I licked my lips, my eyes sliding down to the towel, which was definitely fitting snugger than it had when this whole thing started.

"Is it time to take your towel off now?" I asked again, hopefully. I really desperately wanted that damned towel off.

A soft smile. "Yeah, Babe. It's time now."

"Good." I sighed happily.

He lifted my now unbound wrists to his mouth and kissed them with a tenderness that stunned me. "Do you want to do it?"

"Can I? Is that OK?"

"You can do any damned thing you want to me, Babe. Whenever you want, as often as you want."

Now I heard the difference in his voice clearly. We weren't Intergalactic Princess Stephanie and the dreaded Dark Lord Carlos the Insatiable, All Powerful Scourge of the Galaxy any longer. Suddenly we were Stephanie and Carlos. Superman and his Babe.

"Did I mess this all up for you?" I bit my lip, worriedly. _Crap, he didn't get anything he asked for._

"But I got everything I needed, Babe," he assured me, his smile suddenly 200 watts. "You never disappoint."

"I'm going to give you the best blow-job you've ever had in your life."

"That would be nice."

"And you can do all that kinky stuff to me. Whatever you want. And I won't complain."

"That would be even nicer."

"You could even rip off my dress if you really want to. I can always tell Stella that I came down with a terrible disease so I can't be in the wedding." _Then I could sleep late tomorrow and not have to worry about looking like crap in the photos because I was up all night tonight._

"Not using me as your excuse, Babe."

"Did I---?"

"Say it out loud? No, not this time. I just can read your mind. We Dark Lords have special powers, you know."

"Yeah, well, that's not all you've got." By now I had the towel off and I was in deep appreciation and worship mode. Damn, the man had one hell of a beautiful body! Every rock-hard inch of it was sheer perfection.

"You can take the dress off now, Babe."

"Did you want to rip it off? Really?"

"Nah. Actually, I was going to…." he hesitated, looking uncertain.

"What? Tell me! Come on!" I insisted.

"_Honestly? _I was going to order you to strip for me. Then I was going to sit on the chair over there and command you to suck my cock. Then I was going to give you this really corny line about letting you share my throne. And then have you mount me and---"

"Omigod! I was going to be on top riding you like Zorro?"

"Well, that wasn't exactly the visual I was going for, Babe, but---"

"Crap! Why didn't you put all that in the note? Your communication skills suck, Carlos. I mean, Dark Lord Carlos, Your Imperial Hotness. I gave you a sexier title too, did you notice?"

"I noticed, Babe. I like it."

"We could still do all that."

He paused, then asked quietly, "It was the binding of your hands that turned you off on the whole thing from the start, huh?"

I nodded slowly, suddenly realizing it myself. _That _was what had bothered me about it! And now I knew why. "The thing is? I'm Wonder Woman. Right? In my mind, that's who I always wanted to be. That's my secret identity, I mean, it's corny, but…" I shrugged.

"I get it," he said softly. "You told me that, remember? Your mother was embarrassed because you thought you were Wonder Woman."

"Yeah. And…do you remember what happens to Wonder Woman if she should ever allow a man to bind her hands?"

He looked at me, puzzled at first. Then I actually saw him start to remember the legend. "Oh, yeah. I actually do…..Damn!….She loses all her super powers, doesn't she?"

"Yeah. And I just…I…" I couldn't explain it any better. It was stupid, I know. It was just a fantasy. I wasn't really Wonder Woman, after all. But still…

He pulled me towards him gently, and we stood naked, our arms wrapped around each other. "I don't want to take your super powers away from you, Babe. I don't want you to lose them. Not ever. I want you to fly. I'll always want you to fly."

"So you're not mad I wrecked your fantasy? I swear, Carlos, I didn't do it intentionally."

"I know you didn't, Babe. You just couldn't get into it. Now I understand why. No, I'm not mad at all. I'm just---"

"What?" I saw a glimmer in his eye that made me hold my breath. Could he actually be the one who would _understand_?

"I'm just proud you held true to yourself, Babe. Don't ever give that up for anyone. Not for a man, not for your mother, not for me or Dickie Orr or anyone else who doesn't see you for who you really are. You're special, Stephanie. Very very special. You stay _you_, always, promise me? You be Wonder Woman, no matter who tells you that you can't."

I smiled, blinking back a tear as my heart opened up completely to a man I'd only met mere hours ago, by total chance. A man I knew I would always remember for the rest of my life. And not because he had an 11 inch cock. But because he was the only person in the world who ever really understood who I was and why I _needed_ to fly.

Then I kissed him with every ounce of passion in my body. And I led him over to the chair where I devoted myself to making his fantasy come true.


	11. Chapter 11

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 11

_Carlos' POV_

The woman continues to astonish me. Like I've said before, I try to make it my business never to be surprised, because in my line of work surprises could get me dead. But Life with a capital "L" tends to want to fuck with people, I've learned…and so here she was in my life, the biggest Surprise of all. And ironically, because of her, I'd never felt more alive. Go figure.

We'd had the most amazingly powerful sex I've ever had in my entire life after we had our little "talk", and Stephanie took my hand and led me over to the club chair and went all Intergalactic Princess/Wonder Woman on me. It was so far beyond my wildest imaginings that I can't even put it into words. Even better than our first joining--and that was saying a hell of a lot. That first time had been raw sex, lust and pent-up passion that had exploded in a fury and ended all too soon, although with mutual satisfaction. But the second time…the second time was so much more than that.

Her mouth took my cock places I've never gone before, with an indefinable mix of passion and tenderness. I'm not the poetic type, and certainly not prone to romanticism in any way, shape or form. I never have been. But as I--Dark Lord Carlos the Insatiable--sat there, my legs parted as this magnificent Intergalactic Princess turned Priestess worshipped my maleness with her tongue and her lips, I wanted to weep with pleasure.

I felt things I never had before in my life. Physical pleasure, certainly: exquisite and lingering, as she brought me time and again to the precipice, then pulled me back so that we could prolong the experience. But there was so much more to it than just the physical. Emotions were suddenly swirling deep inside of me, powerful feelings that I'd resolutely blocked out of my life for years because they had no place in the organized hell that was my life.

The reality of it was that I was a paid killer for my government: I took lives and felt no remorse at all for it. The more efficiently I did my job, the more opportunities I was given to advance in Delta Force. The more I advanced, the more dark my soul became. I had no right to feel happiness; to enjoy anything or anyone. And I knew it. I was a sinner with no hope of redemption, because I had no real desire to be absolved. I did my job damned well, and I was well and truly damned because of it. I was a fucked up mess.

But not tonight. Not with this incredible woman. With her, I was in another realm, so far removed from my world and all the darkness and pain it contained that I could for the first time feel what I began to slowly and incredulously recognize as absolute joy. _Joy. _It was a fuckin miracle. And it damned near brought me to tears more than once. It was a hell of a blow job, what can I tell you? I warned you before: I'm not good with words. I can't explain how I'm feeling, or what I'm thinking, or why. Most of the time I don't even bother trying. But tonight anything was possible. Anything at all. Because of _her_.

I locked eyes with Stephanie as she knelt before me, her gentle hands and her sensual mouth working their magic on my rock-hard cock, and I saw deep into her incredibly beautiful and pure soul. And I was mesmerized. She was freely giving me the gift of _herself_, and it was the greatest prize I'd ever received or ever could. I would cherish the memory of this night until I died.

When she finally moved to straddle me, impaling herself upon my hard length and gliding down to take every inch of me inside her wetness, I felt like I'd come _home_ at last. I'd never felt that way with any other woman, and I somehow knew that I never would.

She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and began to ride me slowly; as her sweet mouth seduced mine with the promise of things I had never before allowed myself to believe were possible for a sinner such as myself. For one instant I was normal, I was deserving, and I had a life that held endless possibilities. There was no darkness, no pain, no upcoming mission, no all-but-certain death awaiting me in Iraq. Those thoughts were banished from my mind. There was only Stephanie and Carlos and tonight in this hotel room--and that was more than enough. That, in fact, was _everything_.

And for the second time tonight, I willingly surrendered myself to her, totally and completely. I, who have always demanded absolute control over everything and everyone in my life, again willingly abandoned that control to her--a woman I'd just met. A stranger--but yet someone I think my soul recognized from the moment I'd touched her face in that bar, after she'd blushed, and we gazed deeply into each other's eyes and connected in a way that I never had with another human being.

Thinking about it now, as Stephanie rested in my lap, and we recovered from the orgasms that had shattered both of our bodies, I recognized that I was falling in love for the first time in my life. Deeply and irretrievably in love--and I couldn't do a damned thing about it. There was only tonight for us, there could only ever be tonight. I couldn't give her a tomorrow, I couldn't make promises to her, or give her anything other than one incredible night of passion that I hoped would stay in her mind forever--as she would stay in mine. I couldn't possibly hope to win her heart: that was something that some other man would do one day. Someone I hoped and prayed would cherish Stephanie and help her to fly, the way she was meant to. But it couldn't be me, and I knew it. And damn, that knowledge _hurt_.

"Deep thoughts going on in there, Superman," Stephanie murmured, her blue eyes watching me intently.

Shrugging, I nodded silently. What the hell could I say? I didn't want to have this discussion with her. Hell, I didn't want to have the discussion with _myself_, for that matter!

"Was it…okay for you?" she asked, hesitantly. "Did I do anything wrong?"

"You did everything right, Babe," I assured her, stroking her face gently. "Everything. It was incredible. Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, Carlos," she replied softly, "That's not why I said anything. It's just…you're….I can't explain it. Pulling away from me now, almost. And I don't know why. It scares me."

"Nothing scares Wonder Woman," I teased, "Nothing in the world. She's brave and resourceful, adventurous and all-powerful. Sexy as hell, too. With a mouth on her that can bring a man back from the dead."

"You're trying to change the subject, and I'm not going to fall for it. Are you okay? Can I do anything to help you?"

"I'm fine, Babe."

"No, you're not: you're beating yourself up over something--I don't know what. But if you tell me, maybe I can do something to fix it? Maybe I can help somehow? I'd really like to, if I can."

Christ, how could she know me so well in such a short time? "There's nothing to help. Just me wanting things I can't ever have, Babe. Let it go."

There was a long silence as we both processed what I'd just admitted without saying the actual words. It was as close as I would come to telling her what she meant to me, and we both knew it.

"I will because you asked me to. But I just want you to know--"

"You don't have to say anything, Babe."

"I know I don't, Carlos. But I just wanted to say that--"

"Let it go, please. _Let it go_."

I knew what she was going to do: tell me it wasn't just sex for her, either. I didn't want to hear it. I didn't _need_ to hear it. Christ, I'd _felt_ it. The first time we'd had sex, we'd fucked. The second time, we'd made love. I didn't need to hear the words from her mouth; I'd already heard it from her body. It was more than enough. And still, it wasn't going to matter in the long run: we still weren't going to be together after tonight. It just wasn't in the cards. That's how the hand was dealt; now we just had to play it out the best way we could.

Life was a nasty fucker: it giveith, and then it takeith away. Sometimes it did both in the course of just one night.

We held each other silently for several more minutes, then I summoned up every ounce of self-control I had so rigorously developed over the years. I wasn't going to waste another minute of tonight lamenting the loss of something that I'd been blessed to be given in the first place.

"So, where the hell is that damned bucket, woman? I want to know what's next, how about you?" I gave her a big wolf grin.

She nodded, a smile on her beautiful face. "I can't wait to find out! Just--no more tying me up, OK? I don't want to wreck another one of your fantasies."

"You didn't wreck this one, Babe. Honestly, you didn't."

"I was a pain in the ass. I complained all the way through it. What else would you call it? Admit it: I wrecked it."

"You didn't like getting tied up, and you reacted the way you did because of that. So we fixed it. And it all worked out fine. More than fine, actually. I told you: I enjoyed every second of it. Even when you were being a pain in the ass. You're…you're just _special_, Babe. You make me smile. A lot. Not many people can do that."

"You make me smile too," she said, instinctively realizing that I needed to move away from the thoughts that were running through my head earlier. So she went back to our familiar banter, teasing, "You have a special talent for putting a big smile on my face. A very very humongous and colossally huge and extremely pleasurable talent, in fact." She gave me a wolf grin of her own.

"You have your beast and I have mine," I laughed.

"Yours is a lot more fun," she admitted, giggling. "For both of us."

"So, am I going to see Intergalactic Princess Stephanie of Chambersburg again tonight, I hope?"

"You never know. Especially since we can apparently change the rules of this game whenever the mood strikes us, Dark Lord Carlos the Insatiable," she said pointedly.

"I couldn't resist adding her to my fantasy once you introduced me to the Princess. She's a red-hot little number. You make a great Dominatrix, Babe. Leather belt and all."

"Honestly? I was really surprised you let me do it. I mean, you're not exactly the type to submit to a woman, so I kind of thought you'd go all macho on me and say no."

"I don't usually, but it was fun to let go and see where the feeling took us. You got any other big surprises on the horizon for me tonight?"

She grinned, "You never know. I'm having a lot of fun being a kinky little sex freak. Getting in touch with my inner slut. And I get to pull the next one, don't I?"

"You do," I pulled her to me for a long deep kiss. "And I can't wait another minute, so get your cute little butt over there and do it. I want to fuck you again, and I don't care how kinky your little sex freak is, I want more of her. A lot more!"

She climbed off me and made her way over to the table where the bucket sat. She picked it up, shook it, and then reached in and pulled out the next piece of paper. It was another of hers, I knew it instantly.

"So? What's next for us tonight, Babe?"

"We're taking a trip. A very special trip."

"That sounds promising. Where exactly are we going?"

"We're off to see the Wizard."

"The Wizard?" I was lost. "Who's the Wizard, Babe?"

"_You_ are, of course! The Wonderful Wizard of Ahhhs. Because you make magic between a woman's legs."

I grinned wickedly. "I'm gonna like this one, I can tell it already."

She handed me the paper, and as I read it my smile grew broader. Something else started growing too: my beast was waking up again. And _he_ was liking the idea of a trip to Ahhhs very much. Very much indeed!


	12. Chapter 12

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 12

"_You may now approach!" Carlos commanded ominously, in a kind of low growl. He was working the dangerous scary thing again, full-force. It was sexy as all hell, and I hadn't even seen _him yet. It was that whole liquid sex voice thing he had going on. _WOW_: major hot flashes started in my doodah and washed all points north and south yet again!

That was my cue to enter: I stepped daintily into the room from the bathroom, where I'd been getting into 'costume' for the show. Yeah, OK, so I did it only because he clearly liked the idea of me dressed up 'appropriately' for our fantasies. But, hey, I'd had a really great idea what to wear, so I decided to go into it whole-heartedly.

I wore one of my latest Victoria's Secret indulgences: a blue and white gingham empire waist baby doll nightie that made my 34 B boobs look bigger. It sported a ruffled hem that barely covered my doodah: I'd never been more happy to have gotten that new Brazilian. The nightie had spaghetti straps that tied, and I was seriously hoping that the Wizard would be more than interested in untying them slowly and with a great deal of hands-on attention to the freshly-lotioned skin underneath.

I'd skipped wearing panties. I really couldn't afford to lose any more, considering I knew that he was planning on costuming me in them for _his_ fantasies…before he ripped them off me. Not that I minded his lustful hands tearing off my undies, mind you: I just didn't have an indefinite supply here at the hotel. _Alas. _

I had quickly fashioned a bow into my curly chestnut-colored hair, and shoved my feet into those 4 inch red stiletto FMPs again. After all, Dorothy had her ruby slippers--and I certainly needed mine!

Thus summoned, I did my best awe-struck little shuffle into the presence of the All Powerful and Mighty Wonderful Wizard of Ahhhs, and gave a timid little curtsy. I was working it for all I was worth, and that's no lie.

Carlos had traded his little towel for those skin tight black jeans--minus his shirt and belt--and was sitting on his 'throne'. Yep, the old club chair had been pressed into service once again. He sat regally, his arms resting on the arms of the chair, and looking about as All Powerful and Mighty as any Wizard--Wonderful or otherwise--could ever hope to be. His muscled mocha latte colored chest was displayed to perfection; my eyes did a slow and hungry survey of every hot majorly smoking inch of him. He was also barefoot, and I took the opportunity to note that the man's feet were just as beautiful as the rest of his body. God, it just wasn't fair that any man could be that _gorgeous_!

"I am the All Powerful and Mighty Wonderful Wizard of Ahhhs! Who might _you_ be?" His voice boomed out.

_Eep!! _I jumped about 3 feet in the air. Then I shot him my Burg girl death glare, knowing damned well he'd startled me on purpose when he'd noticed I'd been distracted by his body yet again. Damned Hungarian hormones!

Bastard just smirked, then went back into scary mondo-sexy Wizard mode again. "_Speak! _State your name and the purpose of your visit!"

"If you please, Sir--I am Stephanie of Chambersburg, the Meek and Small," I batted my eyes and tried to look both meek and small as I paraphrased Dorothy's greeting to the Wizard in one of my favorite movies ever. "I've come to see the All Powerful and Mighty Wonderful Wizard of Ahhhs to beg a special favor."

"A _favor?_!" He seemed personally affronted. "Who are _you_ to seek a favor from the All Powerful and Mighty Wizard of Ahhhs?"

"I am just a poor nobody," I groveled pitifully, "But I am in desperate need of something that I am certain that only Your Worshipfulness can provide. You are known far and wide in the Land for your …" I lowered my eyes to lock onto his crotch, and gave a sex-kittenish little mew "…_special skills_."

"That is certainly very true. My 'special skills' are indeed legendary in all the Land," he agreed smugly. "You may continue to tell the All Powerful and Mighty Wizard about your problem, Stephanie of Chambersburg. And keep the whole 'Your Worshipfulness' thing going--the Wizard is liking it a lot, Babe."

"Thank you, Your Worshipfulness. I seek something that no one has ever been able to provide to me. Something that I crave more than anything in the world. I fear that I shall never be able to acquire it without the generous assistance of Your Worshipfulness. So I have therefore traveled a great distance to the Emerald City of Newark in Jersey in the hopes that I might be granted this wondrous favor."

"What is it you seek so desperately, Stephanie of Chambersburg? The Wizard has granted many generous and wondrous favors in the past. He has given the Scarecrow a brain; the Tin Man a heart; and the Cowardly Lion courage. You, the Wizard is certain, already possess all of these things. And a killer body, as well, the Wizard might add."

"Thanks for noticing, Your Worshipfulness."

"De nada, Babe."

"May I also say that Your Worshipfulness is looking sizzling hot yourself? Love the whole no-shirt look you got going on there. God, you're so ripped!"

"The Wizard aims to please."

"Damn skippy--Your Worshipfulness pleased _me _tonight, that's for sure. More times than I can count."

A big wolf grin. "Are you wearing any panties under that little next-to-nothing?"

"Nope. Not a stitch."

"Good. Your chances of getting your favor granted just increased substantially."

"I knew that."

"What can the All Powerful and Mighty Wizard do for you, Babe? And how fast can He do it?"

"Actually, I was kind of hoping for some really really majorly _slow_ ruination with my favor, Your Worshipfulness. If that's OK with you?"

"Not a problem at all, Babe. The Wizard specializes in slow and major ruination of hot-looking curly-haired brunettes with beautiful blue eyes and long luscious legs. Turn around and give My Worshipfulness a 360 degree look at the goods."

I did a wiggly little pirouette, displaying what God gave me to a very interested Wizard. He scrutinized every inch top to toe, and gave a ravenous lip-lick that would definitely have ruined my panties--had I been wearing any to begin with, that is.

"Definitely worth the Wizard's personal attention on this one. You may approach closer, Stephanie of Chambersburg. Name the favor, Babe."

I shimmied my way towards the throne, giving it a lot of hip action, then did my best to look profoundly distressed as I revealed my dilemma. "I've been in life-long pursuit of something that has heretofore eluded my grasp, sadly. Many tell me it is only a myth, and that it is not attainable at all in reality. I confess that I had almost abandoned all hope of _ever _enjoying it…until I learned about Your Worshipfulness' special skills that is."

I again ogled his more than impressive package--which seemed to be growing rapidly as he took in a closer view of my barely there nightie--and I fanned myself mentally. I was getting me some more of _that_--and soon! What a happy little girl Stephanie of Chambersburg was gonna be after _this _visit with the Wizard!

"What can I get for you, Babe? Name it; it's yours."

"I want a Doomsday Orgasm, Your Worshipfulness. If you please."

A bigger wolf grin. "You've definitely come to the right place to cum, Stephanie of Chambersburg. It just so happens that the Wizard _specializes_ in providing Doomsday Orgasms."

"I thought so. I took one look at the Wizard's enormous magic Wand and I knew instantly that I'd come to the right place." My lustful eyes slowly traced a wispy path of dark hair that led temptingly down the mocha latte road to the magic Wand in question. "Just follow the…Happy Trail, right?"

"That's the road that leads to where all the magic gets made, Babe."

Forget the yellow brick road! _This _was the road I wanted to travel!

The Wizard uncurled himself gracefully from his throne, slowly approaching me with a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Consider carefully, however: this is very potent magic you request, Stephanie of Chambersburg. It is certainly well within the Wizard's power to perform it--but it is very dangerous for a woman to undergo. We're talking primal--deeply explosive to a degree that most mortal women can not survive. By the time the Wizard has worked his enchantment upon them, they are reduced to quivering incoherent puddles of Jell-O, forever lost to reason. The Madness descends upon them, and all hope is lost for those poor unfortunate creatures for eternity."

_Eep! _I felt the first stages of The Madness sweeping over me, and bit down on my lip in a desperate attempt to keep drool from flowing unchecked down my chin.

"Are you ready for the Wizard to unleash his tremendous power on your delectably succulent but all too mortal flesh, Babe? Speak now, for there is no turning back once the process has begun."

I gulped, wondering if I had any power of speech left at all with which to reply. My mouth flapped uselessly for a few minutes, before I managed to push out a strangled, "Yes, please." God, I was more than ready--I was _aching_ for it! And he hadn't even touched me yet!

"Brave girl. This is a very intensive and time consuming 6 step process, Babe. Only the Wizard is qualified to do it as it truly needs to be done. You are wise to put yourself entirely in His all-too-capable hands. We'll start with Step One: Getting You Naked." His voice lowered to a husky whisper as he leaned next to my ear, "Keep the ruby slippers on, though. The Wizard gets off on them mightily."

_Oh boy._

He circled slowly, stalking me, the wolf grin now firmly fixed in place. His eyes were hungrily undressing me, then his hands joined the party. He settled behind me, his breath hot upon my bare shoulder, the spicy male scent that was uniquely his washing in waves upon me. I actually shivered in delight as his hands traced a tortuously slow path from my wrists, up my forearms and finally to my shoulders, where they settled on the ties that bound the spaghetti straps of my nightie. He took one string in each hand and oh-so-gently untied them, letting the straps trickle down uselessly over my now quivering flesh.

"We're gonna do this, Babe--and it's gonna be good!" he promised softly, his lips barely touching my earlobe.

I had no doubts at all that would indeed be true. My doodah was ready to self-combust momentarily just at the mere thought of what was headed my way.

He used the tips of his fingers to gently push the cotton gown down to my waist. He gave a low growl deep from his throat, and his fingers slid around to cup my breasts from behind as he pulled me gently against his body. He was rock hard everywhere. _Everywhere. _

I moaned in anticipation of magnificently pleasurable things to come, grinding my ass over his hard length and coaxing a low rumble from him, and a firm warning.

"Baiting the tiger, Babe. The Wizard needs every ounce of self-control He has not to fuck you senseless where you stand. He promised slow and major ruination, and that's still the plan. But if you do that last little move again, the Wizard will take it as an personal invitation to bend you over and put His magic Wand deep where you don't want it to go. Understood?"

_Gulp. _I knew damned well what that threat meant! "No butt stuff!" I yelped.

"Then behave yourself and let the Wizard work His magic at His own pace."

"Yes, Your Worshipfulness." All my grinding ceased abruptly, and I heard him chuckle softly. _Bastard!_

His hands took hold of the cotton fabric around my waist, and he took his own sweet time to shimmy it down past my hips--sending shivers wracking through my body as his fingers deliberately teased my flesh. He finally let the fabric fall to the floor, where it pooled around my feet. I stood naked, clad only in 4 inch red FMPs, and waited breathlessly for his next command.

"Very nice, very nice indeed," the Wizard purred happily and stepped around in front of me to leisurely survey the 'goods', as he'd called them. There was a long tortuous silence; I was absolutely _aching_ to feel his hands on my body. But he did nothing but let his hungry eyes caress me--albeit thoroughly--and lick his sensual lips in obvious appreciation. "The Wizard feels the primeval magic flowing mightily through His body. His Wand is at the ready. It is now time to move on to Step Two of the process."

"Getting the Wizard Naked?" I asked, hopefully. I'd felt the magic Wand growing against my backside, and now I couldn't take my eyes off it as it fought to escape from the tight confines of his jeans. I desperately wanted him naked _now_!

"Not time for that just yet, Babe. Step Two is the Laying On of the Wizard's Magic Hands…all over your smoking hot little body."

_Omigod. _

He started by cupping my face in his hands and carefully tracing the curve of my lips with his thumbs, winning a low whimper from the back of my throat. Then his fingers slid to my jawbone and began a slow and feather soft examination of every inch of my throat, down to my shoulder blades. Using the back of his hands, he stroked the swell of my breasts, teasing the nipples to attention and sending them jutting out proudly as he began to retrace his path over them time and again.

"MMMMMM," I moaned, my eyes fluttering shut as I felt myself surrendering completely to his ministrations.

His hands continued moving inexorably down my body, making slow dizzyingly enjoyable circles on my flesh. There was just the slightest bit of a touch, more like a warm breeze blowing on me. I'd never felt anything quite like it before in my entire life; it was mesmerizingly delicious. I couldn't get enough.

He touched me everywhere: from my breasts over my tummy to my hips then sliding around to cup and gently squeeze my butt cheeks before descending to the back of my thighs then up my back. Then he turned his hands over so that his finger pads were working their magic upon me, and he began ever so slowly to increase the pressure he was using. And he traced back over the same path he'd originally traveled. It felt like a sensual massage, while I stood swaying to the rhythm of his touch. I was ready to weep, it felt so damned good.

"Time to step over to the Wizard's office now, Babe." He took me by the hand, snatching a pillow from the bed as we passed. I followed, lost in a stupor of pleasure. He led me over to the desk, then cleared the top of it with one smooth swipe of his forearm. "Lie down," he commanded, lifting me onto the desk and sliding the pillow under my head. "Keep your hands where I put them, close your eyes, and just breathe deeply."

I did as he ordered; he gently placed my arms over my head and spread my legs apart, bending them slightly at the knees. Then he moved to the foot of the desk and took one of my ankles in his hands, lifting it up to rest on his shoulder. His hands began to massage down my leg, sending the most pleasurable sensations shooting through my body. I kept waiting for his hands to move to the Promised Land, but no--he came oh-so-close, then moved away. Clearly it wasn't time for that yet: the Wizard had taken my request for a slow and careful ruination to heart. He lowered my leg and then lifted my other ankle, and the process began all over again. I was purring by this point.

He moved around the desk, and those most-definitely-magical hands continued to stroke and caress and fondle my entire body into a euphoric state the likes of which I had never before known. Then I felt his breath by my ear, and he whispered, "Now that the time is just right, we'll move to Step Three: the Laying On of the Wizard's Magic Mouth. All over every sweet delectable inch of your delicious naked little body."

_Gulp._

Moments later my body was undergoing the onslaught of the Wizard's determined campaign to send me completely and totally over the edge of sanity. This was definitely the part of the process where other mortal women lost their minds. I felt my eyes roll back into my head, and the drool started flowing from my wide open mouth, as the Wizard began dropping hot wet hungry kisses over every single inch of my flesh. His tongue tormented my nerve endings, then his mouth followed up nipping and sucking at the trail he'd blazed.

He'd started at the tips of my fingers, sucking them in his mouth, then he'd moved relentlessly down my arms, over my shoulders and up my throat, spending an inordinate amount of time pillaging my mouth, his tongue demanding entrance and then wrapping itself around mine as he mated with it in a passionate dance. I tried to pull my arms down to grab on to him at this point, but he firmly held my arms over my head with one hand while his other hand trapped my waist so that I could do nothing but lie in place and lose my mind. I heard an incessant tapping that distracted me until I realized it was my own poor feet kicking against the desk in a kind of spasm of orgasmic bliss. _Oops!_

Finally the Wizard freed my mouth and moved his torture down to my throat again, settling on my breasts for a long intoxicating visit. He took my pebbled nipples into his mouth, nipping at them lightly with his teeth before laving them with his tongue and then fastening his lips onto them to suckle greedily. I let out a wail of pleasure that won me a low growl and a few love bites to my breasts before his assault moved south.

He used his tongue to excavate my belly button, and had me squirming over the desk begging for mercy as his mouth moved along my upper thighs and I felt his hot breath on my now ravenously hungry doodah. I was readying to sing the Hallelujah Chorus when all of a sudden his mouth veered off the path and headed for my knees and all points further south.

"No, no, no!" I protested frantically, again trying to move my arms to help things along the right path.

"Be still, or all of the magic will cease," he commanded.

"Not fair," I whimpered unhappily, and I heard him snort--yes, _snort_--in reply.

His talented mouth continued its determined assault against my senses as he paid slow and careful attention to both of my legs, including my ankles, feet and toes. The fact that I was ticklish didn't help matters any, particularly when the Wizard decided to torment me further with his tongue before finally moving on to the next part of the process.

He let go of my legs and stepped back to examine my body as I lie in a quivering boneless mass on the desk top. I was just getting ready to voice my complaint that the Wizard had bypassed the Promised Land entirely when his husky voice interrupted.

"Now comes the Wizard's personal favorite: Step Four. The Wizard _specializes_ in this step. But this is where you need to use those red slippers to get the Wizard into the special mood He needs to take you Over the Rainbow, Babe."

"What should I do? I'll do anything you say, Your Worshipfulness. Anything at all."

"Good to know, Babe. Remember that for the rest of the night. But for now, just click your heels together three times and say: _"¡Esto es el tiempo para hacer la sopa!"_

My eyes widened to the size of saucers. I was pretty damned sure I remembered that whole _'hacer la sopa' _sucking my pussy thing from before! "Is that…what does it mean? What am I saying, exactly? If you please, Your Worshipfulness."

A big wolf grin. "Oh, I think you know very well what it _means_, Stephanie of Chambersburg. As for what exactly you're saying--the literal translation is: 'It's time to make the soup'."

"Soup?"

"The Wizard's favorite kind of soup: _Cream of Stephanie soup_. Yum, yum!" He licked his lips slowly and smiled like a Cheshire Cat. "Nothing in all the Land tastes quite so sweet and delicious as Cream of Stephanie soup."

_Eep!_

I think I lost consciousness for a brief moment there.

"Babe? You still with the Wizard?"

A strangled little moan was all I could work up in reply.

He lifted my hips and slid another pillow under me, then repeated, "Click your heels, Babe. Three times. And repeat after the Wizard. _¡Esto es el tiempo para hacer la sopa!_"

I managed to choke out the words before his hands suddenly took hold of my ankles and pushed them up towards my shoulders, before spreading my legs wide and giving the Wizard a bird's eye view of the soup-making facilities.

"_Omigod. Omigod. Omigod_."

"Looks like we've already got some soup simmering right now. Let's see…." He suddenly used two fingers to stroke over my slit, sending me shooting off the top of the desk in pleasure. My pussy was dripping wet, and his fingers now held the glistening evidence to prove it.

"Yep, that's definitely a good start. The soup is well on its way to being ready for the Wizard to consume. But first it's time to add a little more liquid." He moistened his lips. "The Wizard's tongue particularly enjoys this part."

I moaned as the Wizard's wickedly talented tongue began to make slow lazy circles near my clit. Oh, yeah, this was the part Stephanie of Chambersburg was going to enjoy the most, for sure! He spent the next half hour devoting himself to making soup….and I lost what little was left of my poor feeble mind as he used his tongue and his lips to bring me to orgasm time and again. I felt my juices flowing freely, my body on fire with the sheer pleasure of it all. I was moaning non-stop in enthusiastic approval.

"Now comes the best part."

That wasn't the best part? _Holy crap! _What else was next? And could I stay conscious throughout it?

"The soup is now at the perfect temperature. Perfect consistency. Perfectly seasoned. Ready to be stirred." He held up three fingers, "The Wizard finds it's best to stir it _this_ way."

I couldn't have agreed more.

His fingers then joined his mouth as they worked in concert to send me over the edge still further. Several Hallelujah Choruses later, I was in such a state of satiated bliss that I didn't even know my own name. Didn't care much, either. I had an ear to ear goofy grin on my face and my eyes were permanently twirling like pinwheels in a Kansas tornado.

"Now, we're almost on the final step."

"When do we get to the Wizard Gets Naked step?"

"Funny you should ask, Babe. We're just getting to Step Five right now."

_Oh goodie!_

He snapped the button to his jeans slowly, then teased me as he lowered the zipper inch by tantalizing inch. All 11 inches of the magic Wand sprung out All Powerful and Mighty, and I almost swooned. Consumed with lust, I made a feverishly desperate grab for it, to no avail.

"Hands off the Wizard!" He boomed imperiously.

"But I need to touch you!" I protested.

"It's not about the Wizard, Babe. Not this time. It's about _you_."

"Can I taste you? I really need to taste you."

His mouth twitched in the promise of a smile. "Well…maybe after I'm finished stirring, I can let you lick the spoon a little bit. How about that?"

I looked over at his fingers, now wet and gleaming with my pussy juices after he'd used them to stroke my slit.

"Not the _little_ spoon, Babe." He shook his head, "The Wizard is going to lick that one." He proceeded to do just that, making no attempt to disguise his enjoyment of it. "Delicious! Cream of Stephanie is the Wizard's personal favorite."

My legs now resting on his shoulders, I watched breathlessly as he picked up the condom package and ripped it open, slipping it onto his magic Wand. He leaned over me, slowly rubbing his huge hard cock against my soaking wet slit and making me so hot I was seconds away from melting into a huge creamy puddle on the floor. The soup was definitely flowing freely by now.

"You can lick _this_ spoon later." He indicated his cock, which was sliding ever so expertly into my hungry pussy, burying itself to the hilt, as it stretched my tight walls and made me groan with pleasure. "The Wizard finds the _big _spoon works best to mix all the ingredients just the way they need to be."

I could see exactly how that would work, all right.

"We've reached the final Step Six: Fucking You Senseless. Now, Babe, just relax and let's start off very slowly." Grabbing the 4 inch heels of my FMPs and using them as a handle, he began pumping rhythmically in and out of my pussy as I wailed happily. "We start on low….then after a few minutes we turn it up a notch." He began thrusting faster and deeper, taking me with him to the next level. "Now is the important part, Babe. Listen very carefully."

I tried my best, but I was pretty much lost to reason by this point.

"Drop your arms to your sides and hold on to the edge of the desk." His voice was ominous, "Hold on very tightly, Babe. Don't let go. The tornado's coming and you're very likely to go airborne any time now."

Airborne sounded real good to me, for sure!

"Ready, Babe?"

Was I ever!

"Here we go." He began pistoning inside me then, pounding ferociously, and I started orgasming in wave upon wave of never-ending pleasure. It was almost like I was standing on the Point Pleasant beach barefoot and the waves were washing over me, varying in intensity. Getting first my ankles wet, then the next time my knees, then finally up to my waist. I was quivering non-stop and my cries of ecstasy grew louder and more prolonged.

"We're heading Over the Rainbow anytime now, Babe."

No kidding! I was making sounds now that weren't even _human_. Dear God in Heaven, this was the most out of my mind feverishly intense feeling I'd ever experienced in my life. This was the best kind of magic there was…the man truly was the Wizard!

"_YES! YES! YES! YES!_" I screamed, my body convulsing in spasms so powerful that the Wizard had to hold me down lest I indeed go airborne for real. I saw the most blindingly white ball of light and it was aiming straight at me. Oh God, this was like nothing in the world I'd ever felt before! The heat grew more intense in my doodah, and the flames combusted and rapidly shot through my entire body. I was in a true nuclear meltdown, and I was loving every single incredible second of it.

"It's time to Surrender yourself completely to the Wizard's magic, Stephanie. Cross your ankles around my neck, Babe, and hold on tightly."

I was more than ready to do just that.

He leaned down to kiss me, pushing my legs up to my shoulders again; his hungry mouth took mine with a kiss that was blistering searing scorching beyond belief. Then he took his mouth off mine and, his black eyes glittering in triumph, he watched me shatter into a billion pieces of white hot light.

"_OMIGOD!! OMIGOD!! OMIGOD!! OMIGOD!!_" I was shaking wildly, my head rolling from side to side, my body bucking off the desk as the most powerful orgasm I'd ever felt in my entire life ripped through my body. But just when I thought that it was ending, and I'd lived through it--though just barely--the next _really_ powerfulorgasm crashed upon me with all the power of a tsunami.

My eyes bulged out of their sockets, and my mouth hung open wide in stunned disbelief. Was it even _possible_ to feel this almost inhuman rapture??

Clearly, it was. And I did.

_Rapture_, that was the only word for it. And it transported my body into that long-imagined mythical dimension that no mortal woman had ever experienced and survived to tell the tale.

"_CARLOS!!_"I threw back my head, and screamed louder than I had ever screamed in my life. "_CARLOS!! OMIGOD! I'M CUMING_!! _CARLOS! CARLOS! CARLOS!_"

"Let go now and jump into it! Now, Babe! _Fly_!"

And I did. For the first time in my life, I was actually _flying--_and it felt just as incredible as I'd always imagined it would. The world couldn't confine me: I was Wonder Woman, I was a Shooting Star, a Supernova. Hell, forget that--I was a fucking entire _Galaxy_ of my own being born. I was touching God. For a split second, I actually WAS God.

Then the blinding white light consumed me, mingled with my essence and became me…and I knew nothing more.

When I finally returned to consciousness, I was lying on the bed and Carlos was tenderly dabbing a cold wet washcloth against my flushed face. I have no clue how long I was out, or how the hell I got over to the bed. I supposed he must have carried me. But I couldn't swear to any of it. I couldn't swear to anything.

"What happened?" I asked, looking around in dazed confusion. "Did I faint?"

"Le Petit Mort, Babe," he nodded his head, confirming it, "French for 'The Little Death'. Also known as 'The Doomsday Orgasm'."

Holy shit! I'd finally had my Doomsday Orgasm! _Halle-fucking-lujah!!_

"Carlos, it was _incredible_! I don't know how else to describe it. I didn't even know it was possible to feel that good…" I trailed off, still trying to comprehend what I'd just experienced. I knew it had changed me, somehow, forever. "I could fly! I _did_ fly!"

"You've always had the power to fly hidden deep inside you, Babe. You always will. You just need to learn to trust yourself, and listen to the truth inside you. Be who you are. Then nothing and no one can keep you grounded."

"Then I can really be Wonder Woman?"

"Babe--_you already are. _For real."

Hot damn!

_Who knew?_


	13. Chapter 13

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 13

_Carlos' POV_

"I am a _very_ satisfied woman," announced Stephanie, lying in my arms as she basked in the afterglow of her first-ever Doomsday Orgasm. "In fact, I'm so supremely satisfied that I'm not even going to get upset when you tell me why you have that Cat Ate the Canary grin on your face right now. Nope, not gonna get upset, Superman. Not even when I know--absolutely _know_, mind you--that you've just drawn probably the kinkiest of all of your extremely perverted and sicko fantasies right now, and are just salivating to do things to my poor defenseless body that would make me blush under any other circumstances. See how well I'm handling this potential crisis now that I'm Wonder Woman for real?"

"Proud of you, Babe."

"I thought you would be."

I grinned, re-reading the slip of paper I'd pulled out of the bucket moments earlier, "You sure you're in total control of yourself, though, Babe? Because I'd sure hate to have to listen to any more whining when you see what's in store for you this time." It was indeed one of my most daring fantasies; she was going have a major panic attack when she discovered what was coming up next.

"Wonder Woman doesn't whine. Not ever. And don't think I haven't noticed that you aren't denying this is a really freaky one," she gave me a look that made me want to laugh out loud. It was a mixture of suspicion and curiosity and just the barest hint of excitement all wrapped up in one. "I'm not going to like this at all, am I?"

"Once we get started, you will," I deflected, dropping soft little kisses down her jaw.

"Oh, crap. Does it involve barnyard animals?" she teased.

"No, not _this_ one at least. But I have this whole _other_ one planned where we---"

"You damned well better be kidding me, Superman! I don't do cows or chickens or sheep or God only knows what else you populate these perverted fantasies of yours with."

"Will you just chill out, Babe?" I laughed, "A woman who's just had the Mother of all Doomsday Orgasms shouldn't be stressing out anytime in the foreseeable future. Hell, you should be about _comatose_ by now, considering how many times you just came full-throttle."

"I am a little mellower than usual, now that you mention it," she teased, cuddling up beside me as we lay naked on the bed. Her hand stroked my chest gently, tracing my muscles, and it felt like a little slice of Heaven. "But that may change in the next few minutes depending on what's on that innocent-looking piece of paper you're clutching so tightly."

"You'll find out when the time is right. In the meantime, we need to get up and get dressed now," I gave her another soft kiss and tried--unsuccessfully--to climb out of bed. "I'll pick out your clothes."

"For what? What are we doing? Who am I supposed to be this time?"

She made a grab for the paper, but I held it out of her reach: yep, no question, Stephanie was going to _freak_ when she realized what was next on our little adventure.

"I'm broadening your horizons, Babe," I informed her with a wolf grin.

"That's not all you're broadening," she giggled, "I'm now about three sizes larger down there, thanks to the size of the humongous equipment you're packing between your legs. Hell, I'll be damned good and lucky if I can even _walk _tomorrow."

"Yeah, but you'll have an ear to ear grin on your face as they wheel you down the aisle," I said smugly. "Guaranteed."

There is no better feeling for a man than to know he's pleased his woman more than anyone ever has. Or ever will again, I was pretty confident after our last marathon on the desk. I would always think of Stephanie as "my woman", no matter that it was only for tonight. She had taken me by surprise--snuck up on me while I was uncharacteristically unaware of my surroundings--and she'd grabbed not only my body, but my heart and my soul as well. And she wasn't ever going to let them go.

But I knew just as confidently that I'd done the same with Stephanie. She would always remember me, always remember this night. No matter how many years passed, how many men she'd be with, she would always remember _me_. And the night was still far from over. There were still many more memories to be made before it was time to say good-bye and walk away forever.

_Speaking of memories to be made…_

"You really aren't going to let me read that paper?" she asked incredulously as I finally pulled out of her grasp.

Smiling, I climbed out of bed and made my way over to the pile of dresses that she'd almost worn tonight. I'd seen a color I liked when they'd been scattered on the desk--before I cleared it and tossed them all to the floor--and I wanted to take a better look now.

"When the time is right, you'll find out all you need to know," I stalled, examining the strapless royal purple jersey dress that I thought would fit the bill nicely. _Easy access. _"Put this on, Babe." I tossed it at her and went in search of matching heels. What I wanted was something along the lines of those sexy hot red stilettos that had gotten the Wizard so turned on earlier….

"You're really getting off on this whole wardrobe thing, aren't you?" She climbed out of bed and headed into the bathroom, "I assume I'm sans underwear again, Mr. Valentino?"

"Unless you want to lose another pair of panties, Babe. I don't mind ripping---"

"Thanks, but no," she snorted, slamming the door behind her. Moments later the door opened, her head peeked out and she pointed to a pile of shoes on the floor near the dresser. "The bronze strappy sandals over there."

I grinned: damn, now she was beginning to read my mind! They were lethally hot looking, and I thought they might even eclipse the ruby slippers on the Wizard's list of favorites.

I'd just finished pulling back on my jeans--I'd skipped the belt--and putting on my black shirt when she made her grand entrance.

She looked spectacular, and my look of appreciation and low wolf whistle said so clearly. She'd touched up her makeup, done some kind of fluffing thing with her hair, and now strapped on the killer shoes as she watched me slip my feet into my boots.

"You're not all buttoned up there," she pointed to my shirt, "Missed a few at the top, Superman."

"No point to it, you're only going to be unbuttoning them very soon," I reasoned, "Grab that paper bag, will you?" I pointed to the small bag that the gift shop had provided us with when we'd made our earlier purchases.

"Why do we need this?" She handed me the bag, her face a mix of confusion and curiosity. "Or is that something else that I'm not going to find out until later?"

"Take your room key card, Babe," I winked, "Tuck it in your pocket, OK? We're heading out now."

"Excuse me? Heading out _where_?" She had her hands on her hips, doing that glare thing she thinks is so scary. She looked cute as hell.

"Road trip, Babe."

"Road trip to _where_, exactly? Your room? Eighth floor, right? You're getting fresh clothes?"

"Not quite. But we could always head up that way, if you prefer. I don't have a set direction in mind. I'm open to suggestion."

"OK, how about _this_ for a suggestion? You quit the Man of Mystery act and spit out what the fuck is going on here."

"We're going to fuck, Babe," I teased, "No mystery to this man at all."

"Where are we going exactly? And why do we have to go anywhere but here?"

I took her arm and pulled her unceremoniously out into the hallway.

"_Carlos_…."

"Up or down, Babe," I gave her my 200 watt smile. "You pick."

"Since I have no idea what you're talking about, I'll pass, thanks very much."

Smart woman.

"We could take the elevator, press a button and get off at a random floor," I decided.

"Whatever floats your boat," she muttered, looking around the corridor uncomfortably.

"Problem, Babe?" I could read her like a book, and decided to play with her a bit. I wrapped my arms around her, nuzzling her throat, and pushed her gently against the wall. "God, you get me so damned hot I can't keep my hands off you."

"Not here, Carlos," she said nervously.

"Why not, Babe?" As if I didn't know! I just wanted her to _say_ it. Maybe now was the perfect time to spring my little surprise on her? And step back while she freaked.

"I just---well, we're on our way to wherever you're so desperate to take me," she stalled, trying to extricate herself from my arms. "I just figured, why waste time when we could be doing other things?"

"I wouldn't call kissing you 'wasting time', Babe," I pointed out, "Besides, here is as good a place as any, now that I think about it. Like you said: why waste time?"

"Meaning exactly what?"

"Need to know basis, Babe. Now you need to know." I handed her the piece of paper and watched her very expressive face process what she was required to do. And where.

"_Omigod. Omigod. Omigod_."

"You look like you're ready to faint, Babe. Take a deep breath."

"You can't be serious."

"Deadly serious, Wonder Woman. And before you say anything more--let me point out that we did both of your fantasies as written. I didn't stall, hyperventilate or try to bargain my way out of a damned thing. While you, on the other hand, had major problems with my one simple request---"

"_You wanted to tie me up_!" She protested angrily, her eyes widening when she realized the volume of her own voice. "SSSSSHHHH! We can't have this discussion here, Carlos. End of story."

"Why not, Wonder Woman?" I crossed my arms and waited.

"Because---because----"

"I'm waiting?"

"Because my _friends_ are staying on this floor, damn it! That's Stella's room right there!" She pointed across the hall, "And that's Ruby's! And Melinda's! And Amanda's! And worst of all--that's Tina's! Trust me, it's a fucking God damned _miracle _she isn't out here right now trying to figure out who the hell I'm with and what I've been up to all night."

"She already knows what you've been doing, Babe," I grinned, "You got busted on the phone, remember?"

"Of course I did," she hissed, her head spinning in a desperate attempt to ensure that we stayed undiscovered. "But having her guess what we're up to and having her hear it for herself are two different things. So keep your voice down."

"Too late to worry about any of that now."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"Babe, where is the desk in relation to the door?"

"What does the desk have to do with anything? And can we please just move this conversation somewhere--_anywhere_--else? And fast?"

"If your friends' rooms are where you say they are, Babe, they've _already_ heard what you're afraid they're going to hear now. You weren't exactly shy with your appreciation of the Wizard's skills….if you get what I'm saying."

"Omigod! Omigod!" Stephanie turned so pale I thought she was going to pass out. "They had to have heard me screaming before! _OMIGOD! _I'm so screwed!"

"Well, you _were_--that's why you were screaming so loud, Babe," I grinned, enjoying her very expressive face. "Now it's too late to worry about it…it's called locking the barn door after the horse is gone."

"Forget about the fuckin' horse," she hissed, "And let's get the hell out of this corridor. NOW!"

"Bwack bwack bwack," I did my best chicken impression, complete with flapping wings, "Wonder Woman, huh? Sure you are, Babe. In your dreams…."

Her eyes flashed, and I knew I'd hit her where it hurt. "You think I'm _chicken_? You think I'm going to wimp out of this because I'm a coward?"

"Sounds like it to me, Babe," I sighed sadly, "Yet another of my smoking hot fantasies bites the dust, thanks to your ultra-conservative----"

"Bullshit!" she snapped, "After what we just did in there over and over and over, you have the nerve to tell me I'm _ultra conservative_? The hell I am! All right, Superman, you want your fantasy the way you wrote it? That what you want? That what would make you happy?"

I shrugged, biting my lip to keep from grinning ear to ear. _Applying pressure_, I call it. I knew her weakness by now, and I knew exactly how to rile her up so she would be absolutely fearless. "It's OK, Babe, don't worry about it. We can go back inside and I'll settle for something a lot more tame…."

"_Settle_ _for?? _Bastard!" she glared, "You're doing this on purpose and we both know it. Getting me pissed so I'll do whatever you want me to."

Damn! She knew me so well, and we'd only just met! The woman was smart, and had instincts like no one I'd ever met.

"Is it working?" I leaned in to drop slow wet deep kisses along the side of her throat. "You've got your color back now, I see. Looking really sexy there, Babe. Lots of skin, smooth and oh-so-kissable. The things I want to do to your hot sinfully gorgeous little body…."

Stephanie turned her head to the side to allow me better access, "I'm going to do this, but I swear to you, Carlos, if any of my friends catch us out here, I'm going to _kill _you. I'm serious. Be very quiet."

"What's the fun in that?" I whispered, sliding my hands down her body and feeling her shiver in arousal. "If we're quiet it means we're not doing it right, Babe."

"We're going to get thrown out of the hotel if we do this and get caught, you do realize that?" Stephanie sighed, her hands starting to do a little exploring of her own. She slid her hand into my shirt and began toying with one of my nipples. "We're going to get arrested, too. I'll need to call my cousin the sex pervert weasel to come bail me out of jail. And it'll be all over E.E. Martin's that they have an exhibitionist slut for a lingerie buyer. I'll have to quit and go live in Nome, Alaska under an assumed name. And it'll be all your fault."

I grinned, my hand cupping her ass as I ground against her, "You buy lingerie, Babe? I'd have bet you modeled it, instead: you've got the body for it."

"I notice you aren't denying the rest of the scenario," she ran her hand down my chest and slid her fingers under my waistband. "You're perfectly fine with getting me arrested and ruining my career and having me freeze to death because I can't hold my head up in Jersey anymore."

"That's only if we get caught, Babe," I murmured, dropping a hot trail of kisses over her shoulders, and tugging down the top of her dress just enough to expose her rosy nipples. Then I flicked my tongue over each in turn before taking them into my mouth for a slow enjoyable suckle. "We're not going to get caught, trust me."

"God, that feels so good," she moaned, her hand fisting into my hair and holding my head in place. "Harder, do it harder."

I was more than happy to oblige. "You like that, Wonder Woman?"

"So now I'm Wonder Woman again, not Chicken Little?" she teased, "Cause you're getting what you want, right?"

"That's how it works, Babe." I used my lips and my tongue to get her purring, then I slid my hand under her dress and slowly made my way up her thighs. "But we're not doing this here, so don't worry about your friends."

She blinked, "I thought---" She looked down at the paper she was still clutching tightly. "It says '_sex in a public place where there is a likelihood of discovery_.' I thought you were going to make me---"

"Not here in the corridor, Babe," I kissed her slowly and deeply then pulled away and adjusted the top of her dress, "I wouldn't do that to you with your friends staying here. And I'd have stopped if I heard anyone coming. That's why I'm standing here covering your body--so no one can get a look at you. No one but _me_, that is."

"So? You brought me out here to feel me up? Test me? Tease me?" she was truly confused. "Now what? I thought you wanted to have sex out here?"

I took her hand, "Not here…I have someplace much better in mind."

"God, I'm afraid to ask."

"Hotel lobby."

"Bullshit! The hell we will!"

"There's a little alcove over by the elevators just out of sight of the front desk," I led her down the corridor toward the bank of elevators. "We can sneak in there. As long as you manage not to scream your pretty head off when you cum, no one but the two of us will know what's going on. But that's only if you can be quiet, Babe. I kinda think maybe you can't. I warn you: I'm planning on getting very creative."

"Oh, you aren't serious! In the fuckin _hotel lobby_, Carlos? We're going to make the local news tonight! My mother will get a call that her daughter is fornicating with a strange dangerous looking man, and I'll never be able to look her in the face again."

"Yeah, but you'll have a big happy smile on your face, Babe. I'm going make it so goooood for you. Promise."

"Not in the hotel lobby, Carlos! Please! Anywhere but there!"

"Anywhere, huh? Is that what you just said? _Anywhere? _OK--deal."

"I don't like the sound of that," Stephanie gave me a speculative look then, "And you gave up far too soon. Omigod! You shitter! You never intended to go down to the hotel lobby, you smug son of a bitch! Did you? Where are you-----OH!!!!!!"

I laughed, hauling her into the alcove by the elevator bank, where the ice machine and a soft drink vending machine were tucked away. "So, you think you have me all figured out, huh, Wonder Woman? You know all about my nefarious plans?"

"Are you going to deny any of it?" Her eyes assessed me, sparkling wickedly, "I thought not! So, are we going to do it right here? Is that what gets you off?"

"You'll find out," I warned her, pushing her back against the wall and holding both of her arms over her head as I gave her a big wolf grin, "Because I'm going to make you _beg_ for me to fuck you."

"You can try your best, Superman," she scoffed, "But since _I'm _not into public sex, and clearly _you_ are, I think the only one begging for it is gonna be _you_."

"You think so?"

"I know so. Do your best, Superman. I'm not begging you for a damned thing."

My mouth took hers passionately; the kiss not the least bit gentle as my tongue plunged into her sweet mouth and ravished hers as I took what I wanted from her. I had taken her by surprise with my ferocity, but Stephanie rallied quickly: her sexual appetite was just as strong as mine. She returned the kiss with an equal amount of wildness, and before long we were well on our way to complete vertical combustion.

Then I pulled away, watching the shock and the disappointment in her big blue eyes. "Not here, Babe. Just giving you a taste of what it's going to be like. When you finally get it, that is. When you beg me for what you need."

"Bastard!" Stephanie muttered, adjusting her dress as she gave me her most indignant look. "You are one sick freak, Superman."

"And you want me just as much as I want you, Babe," I took her hand and pulled her out into the corridor again, "So don't forget it. And don't issue challenges you can't hold up against."

"Oh, so _that's_ what this is? Take Steph out in public and get her all hot and bothered, feel her up, shove your tongue down her throat---"

"Sounds good to me."

"Then back off and watch her get pissed and frustrated. Until, _what_? She finally rips the clothes off your body and fucks you where you stand? No matter where the hell we are at the time? That's your little scenario, isn't it? Twisted bastard."

I grinned. Damn, the woman really could read my mind!

"It's not going to work, Freak Boy. You're going to have to do a lot better than that to get me so horny I can't control myself."

"I will, huh?"

"A hell of a lot better than that."

"Like _this_, you mean?" I swept her up in my arms and strode over to the table that sat directly across from the elevators. I carelessly brushed the ornamental vase to the side--it was perilously close to the edge of the table--and I sat Stephanie down and stood between her knees. I fisted my hand in her hair and pulled her mouth to mine, capturing it ravenously as my arm slid around her waist and pulled her close to me. The kiss was blistering, and in seconds her arms wrapped around my shoulders tightly and she greedily returned every ounce of passion ten-fold.

God, it took every bit of self-control I had not to just flip up her dress, unzip my trousers and fuck her right then and there. But we were only getting started. Stephanie had begun this as a reluctant participant, but by the time I'd finished applying pressure, she was going to be absolutely primeval in her lust. I knew her appetites behind closed doors, now I wanted to awaken her to that passion fully. Wonder Woman was fearless; Stephanie would be too, by the time this fantasy of mine was over.

I pulled away, taking one last bite from her succulent bottom lip. Her eyes were a dark midnight blue and her lips were ripe and swollen from my kisses. I leaned in to drop some hot wet kisses up her throat, then growled in her ear, "Usted es la mujer sexiest más caliente viva, no puedo esperar a ser dentro de usted." (_You are the hottest sexiest woman alive, I can't wait to be inside of you.)_

"Oh, Christ, you know what that does to me when you speak Spanish," she whimpered, reaching over to grab my shirt and pull me back for another round of kisses. "That's so not fair."

I ground my mouth against hers, my hands moving over her curves, enjoying the silken smooth skin so beautifully on display in the strapless dress. _Could I?? Damn, how could I not?? _I pushed down the top of her dress again, exposing her creamy breasts to my hungry eyes again, and my hands began to knead them roughly as she moaned in pleasure.

"Don't stop," she ordered, "Don't you dare stop."

"What if someone comes?" I teased, my fingers rolling her nipples as she threw back her head, her breathing shallow and uneven. "Maybe I should stop before we get caught and someone recognizes you and tells your mother on you?"

"Get over here," she hissed, pulling me towards her by my shirt, and then stunning both of us as she ripped it open, sending buttons flying. "Say something else in Spanish, then put your hand under my dress."

"Tardé una hora en conocerte y sólo dos horas en enamorarme. Pero me llevará toda una vida poder olvidarte." (_It took me an hour to know you and only two hours to fall in love. But it will take me a lifetime to be able to forget you_.)

I took her breasts into my mouth one after the other, sucking them as her hands held my head in place and she moaned in delight. My hands both slid under her dress, moving up her silken thighs until my thumbs reached the spot that I knew would reduce her to a quivering puddle. She was wet for me already, and my thumbs began to draw slow circles as she gave herself completely over to me.

"You like that, Babe?" I pulled back from my delicious meal, licking my lips, and watched her eyes glaze over in passion. "You want more?"

"God, yes." Her hands moved to my chest, and she began stroking me, her fingers teasing my nipples into hardness, "I've never wanted anyone as much as I want you, Carlos. Never in my life."

"Tell me what you want, Babe," I whispered, as I sent three fingers to glide over her hot wet slit, "You want this?"

"Yes," she met my eyes unafraid, "I want all of that."

"Right here?"

"Yes."

"Anyone could see us. If they open up their doors---"

"I don't care."

"If they come out of the elevator."

"It doesn't matter."

"Your friends would see you---"

"To hell with them. To hell with anyone. _Fuck me, Carlos_."

"Tell me what you want, Babe. Tell me exactly what you want…."

"I want _you_, damn it! I want your huge hard cock deep inside me. I want you to make me cum over and over just like you did before. Make me so crazy for you that nothing else matters but having you."

I grinned victoriously, seeing she was just as desperate for me as I was for her. I had never wanted any woman more in my life, and I knew I never would. Stephanie was the very personification of sex to me: everything about the woman just screamed sex.

"Touch me, Babe, put your hands on my cock. Feel how hard and ready it is for you. Feel what you do to me."

She snapped the button of my jeans and had the zipper down in seconds, freeing my rock-hard cock from its uncomfortable confines. Her hands were stroking me, sending me to Heaven, as my fingers worked their magic on her.

"You want me to beg for it?" she hissed, her eyes glittering. "Tell me what to say in Spanish. How do you say 'fuck me'?"

"Chingame!"

"_Chingame, Carlos! _Chingame, right here, right now!"

"Babe!" I didn't need to be asked again. I pushed her dress up to her waist, grabbed her ass and pulled her towards me. I tore the wrapper of the condom open with shaking hands and dressed myself quickly. She wrapped her legs around my waist as I thrust my hard length deep inside her welcoming pussy, and we both groaned as we took a moment to enjoy the sensation of being together.

"I can't get over how fucking _huge_ you are," she moaned, then rocked to adjust herself to my massive size. "You rip me up when you get in there, and I love every second of it."

"You're so tight, Babe," I breathed, starting to move slowly as she slid her arms around my shoulders and we traded kisses. "You're so absolutely perfect for me, no one else feels this good. No one ever has, no one ever can."

"So goooooood," she whispered, "It's just incredible how hot you get me. How fast you can make me go completely to pieces."

"You want to go to pieces, Babe? Like before?"

"Make me scream," she challenged, "Make me cum so I'm absolutely out of my mind when they find us and cart us off to jail."

"Someone should have found us by now," I admitted, grinning as I rocked back and forth inside of her, "I'm disappointed no one is out and about to catch the fun."

"MMMMMMMMM, it's fun all right," she admitted, her low moans growing longer and turning into louder cries of pleasure, "Damn! I'm just as kinky as you are. It's a real turn on, isn't it?"

"You should see your face, Wonder Woman. How stunningly beautiful you look. Your skin luminous, your eyes sparkling with passion….."

"My hair totally out of control," she teased, "How can you go so slow and make it last so long? Oh, Christ, you're _killing _me here."

"We can go faster if you want," I nibbled on her earlobe and gave her a long extremely detailed recitation of her magnificence, all in Spanish. "If you really want to risk someone finding us."

"I thought you wanted that."

"I wanted you to not give a damn if they did."

"Then it worked, Carlos: I want you so damned much I can't think of anything or anyone else. You are the Wizard, I swear to God, you are. You can bring me so close and then back off and make me want it even more. How the hell can anyone be so phenomenal at fucking? Oh, God, that's soooooooooooooo------"

"Hold on tight, Babe," I grunted, scooping her up, my hands cupping her ass as I moved her off the table.

I'd never intended to fuck her openly in the damned corridor; I'd just planned to let my hands roam over her body, tease her, kiss her….but once I'd gotten a taste, I hadn't been able to resist taking more. She was an addiction. But I didn't want her embarrassed in front of strangers--or more especially, in front of her friends. I'd be gone tomorrow, but she'd have to live with the gossip; I didn't want that for her. Of course, my ego had loved her screaming my name, and I knew damned well that if her friends had been in their rooms they would definitely have gotten an earful. But an earful and an eyeful were two very different things.

"Where are we going?" She leaned into me, her mouth playing with my earlobe.

"Somewhere safe, Babe," I carried her back into the alcove and leaned her against the wall. "Ready?"

"Fuck me hard," she demanded, "Really pound into me."

"Sure you can take it? I'm not going to hold anything back," I warned, my eyes assessing hers, "And I'm not going to kiss you, so if you scream, Babe, you're on your own."

"Why won't you kiss me?" she asked, puzzled. Her voice sounded hurt.

"Cause I love listening to those hot noises you make when I'm buried inside you and fucking you really really deep and fast. God, you make me cum just listening to you, Steph," I admitted.

Stephanie smiled ear to ear, "I do? _Really_?" I swear she actually blushed!

"_Babe. _You are so fucking hot and sexy and everything I've ever wanted in a woman, there are no words. None."

"Carlos! Oh, God, fuck me right now! Give me everything!"

And I did. I let myself go completely, holding nothing back, my lust now completely unchecked. I'd been a slave to her body from the first moment I saw her, and the more time I'd spent with her, the more deeply she had mesmerized me. She'd named me the Wizard--but _she_ was the Enchantress. I would never be able to break free of her charms, I would never want to be free again.

I heard her cries growing louder with each frenzied thrust, and the sound of her only incited me to further savagery. What little self-control I'd managed to hold on to was completely gone and I pumped into her wildly as she continued to beg for more.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me! Damn it, Carlos!! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!" she chanted, then she locked her ankles around my waist and I felt her spasming into a long and powerful orgasm. Her head fell back, and I watched her eyes roll back into her head as her mouth opened in a loud scream that took both of us by surprise as it ripped from her throat and filled the room with its intensity and volume.

"Stephanie, Christ, you're going to wake the whole damned floor!" I was amazed and turned on and in seconds I'd shattered inside of her. I came so powerfully I damned near dropped her, and it was a fucking miracle I didn't blow a hole in the condom. I'd never enjoyed losing control more.

"Holy shit!" Stephanie whooped, as I staggered lightheaded, and she slid down the wall less than gracefully. I held my arm out, holding the wall to keep my legs from buckling out from under me.

I couldn't make a sound, I was too damned busy trying to get some air back in my lungs.

Stephanie, however, was making enough noise for both of us: the woman was euphoric; on a sexual high like none I'd ever seen. That must have been one hell of an orgasm!

"Hot damn! That was even stronger than the last one! I swear to God, Superman, you shot me the hell into the next galaxy! Holy Mother of God, you are one of the Wonders of the Modern World! I swear to God, Carlos, I'm gonna build a fuckin temple to your magnificence." She did a happy dance, shaking her hands in the air and whooping it up so loud and long my jaw dropped to the floor.

"_Babe_?" It took all I could do to choke that out.

"That was the _Beyond _Doomsday Orgasm! Holy shit, I think I'm still quivering down there! Oh, God, I think I'm gonna cum again! Quick, gimme your hand!" She grabbed my hand and shoved it under her dress, and--as I watched in complete fascination--she ground herself on my palm, and proceeded to cum yet again with a smile so radiant I couldn't keep myself from admitting the truth to both of us.

"Te amo con todo mi alma, Estefanía." (_I love you with all my soul, Stephanie_.)

Her blue eyes widened. "What did you say?"

I closed my eyes. _Damn it! This was not supposed to happen!_

"Carlos," she whispered, "What did you just say to me?"

I pulled back, suddenly snapped back to my surroundings and to harsh reality. "It doesn't matter, Babe. Fix your dress, we've got to get out of here before we have the whole damned floor congregating around waiting for the Second Act."

She bit her lip, her eyes still watching me intently as I stripped off the condom and disposed of it in the paper bag I'd thought to bring with me. Yes, that's me: logical, organized, prepared for anything, in total control of everything around him. Especially in control of his emotions. Like hell I was. I was a mess now. And she and I both knew it.

"It's OK," she said softly, "I understand. No promises, we both agreed."

"That's how it has to be, Babe." I couldn't even meet her eyes. I zipped up my jeans, then paused when I tried to button my shirt and realized I had only one button left. My eyes instinctively turned to Stephanie.

"Oops! My bad!" she grinned unapologetically.

"Babe." I shook my head, trying to hide my smile. "Let's get out of here. Just wait a minute until I can check out----"

"We gonna sneak back into the room, Superman?" she whispered, as I poked my head warily into the corridor. "Is the coast all clear? Should we make a break for it on the count of three?"

"I've created a monster here, clearly."

"You have. And the scary part is I'm ready to fuck you again right here and now."

"Babe!" Now that impressed me mightily. Even _I_ wasn't ready to go for another round…just yet. I would need maybe 10 minutes to recharge. OK, maybe _5_, if she kept looking at me like that.

"I meant what I said about building the temple."

"I appreciate that, Babe."

"I'm not a chicken anymore, am I?"

"No, Babe--you're definitely Wonder Woman for real."

"Let me know if you want to try for the hotel lobby….."

"You aren't kidding, are you?"

She grinned evilly, "Be afraid, Superman. Be _very_ afraid."


	14. Chapter 14

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 14

I heard her seconds before I actually saw them. Of course, that's only because I was too busy ogling Carlos' tight hot little ass as he and I moved down the corridor towards my room--and another round of deliciously orgasmic sex. Plus I was still trippin mightily from my most recent off planet adventure--when I almost became the new moon circling Jupiter, that is.

The man is a Cuban Sex God, I tell ya: there's no one like him and never will be. He is so sinfully talented horizontally and vertically that women are truly blessed to have him drawing breath. He'd well and truly ruined me for every other man, and every minute I spent with him was only making that more and more apparent. I was going to be freakin miserable once the evening was over and he was out of my life. Out of my life as in physically--he'd always be in my memory, in my dreams, in my fantasies. No other man could live up to the place he held. That was an incontrovertible fact.

And he loved me. I'd heard him admit it, and I'd seen it in his dark chocolaty eyes. He loved me, and he hadn't been able to keep from blurting it out. Then he'd realized what he'd said and that I knew his secret--I mean, come on: I don't speak Spanish, but even _I_ knew what 'te amo' meant. And I loved him too. I just knew he didn't want to hear the words. Because he was going wherever the hell the Army was sending him, and I'd never see him again. But before he was out of my life for good, we were going to have a night that would last us both for the rest of our lives. We were going to make magic non-stop until the time came to say goodbye.

My first clue should have been when he stopped dead in his tracks, causing me to almost plow into him. My second clue should have been the muttered, "_Shit_" that came low and husky from his throat as he turned to look at me.

What the hell was his problem, anyway?

I was just about to ask him that when I heard an all-too-familiar drawl.

"Well, well, look who's back! Stevie, our own little home-grown sex maniac! And this must be the ever-famous _Carlos_. Yummy yummy yummy! Aren't you just simply _scrumptious_!"

Tina! Damn it! I knew the bitch was too nosy to stay in her room!

I looked over, seeing the door of her room standing open wide; and not one, not two, not three---no no, a grand total of five--count 'em, _five_--of my co-workers grinning at me like they'd gotten a pre-paid shop-till-you-drop excursion at Macy's.

"Can I help you?" I said acidly, deciding the best defense was a good offense.

"I told Ruby I recognized that scream anywhere." Tina chortled, "I said, 'That's our MIA buddy Stevie, and she's getting her some red hot steamy sex from the hottie she picked up in the bar. We thought at first the screaming was coming from your room--like it was _before_--but nope. Not this time. It was definitely coming from down the hall. _In _the hall, sounded like. We all looked, but we couldn't see you."

"We were ready to send out a search party," bellowed Stella from behind the throng. "With cameras!"

"Girlfriend, I swear to God, you were making enough racket to raise the dead!" Ruby asserted, pushing her way to the front of the line. "Course, now that I see what the Studmuffin here _looks_ like, I can certainly understand why you were wailing up a blue streak." Her eyes stripped Carlos naked and I caught just the slightest glimpse of terror in his eyes. Ruby is close to 60, 5', 200 lbs and has more wrinkles than Nature should allow on any one face. And Ruby was definitely more than horny. "Shit, you're fucking _gorgeous_, Muscles! Where the hell did you find this hottie, Stevie? And how fast can I get one of my own up here?"

"Lemme see," Melinda demanded, "Move outta the way: I want to see the hunk for myself!"

"Oh, Lordy, Lordy, Lordy, are you built," Tina whistled in appreciation, her eyes doing a very thorough top-to-toe examination of a surprisingly silent Carlos. "No wonder you dragged his fine hot ass upstairs, Stevie! We suffered through that miserable stripper wanna-be forever, then we decided to head upstairs and watch some pay-per-view porn."

"Then we heard you screaming _'Carlos, I'm cuming' _and we realized you were putting on a hotter show than the cable." Amanda giggled, "I was wondering if it could possibly be as good as it sounded--or if you were just drunk or desperate after The Dickster's clearly limited 'talents'."

"I'd say it's pretty obvious it's _definitely _as good as it sounded," Melinda purred, rolling her eyes in delight. "Does he speak English at all? Not that he'd _have_ to, mind you. With a body like that, he could be deaf dumb and blind and he'd still give a woman more than enough to keep her very very satisfied."

"Enough of this," Carlos muttered quietly. He didn't look happy.

"I want all the details tomorrow morning," Tina ordered, "And I mean _ALL_ of the details, Stevie. Because it's just not fair you got yourself this sexy hunk of man and all we got was a limp noodle wiggled in our faces for 20 minutes or so."

"Ain't no limp noodle there, for damned sure," Ruby licked her lips hungrily. "How big is he, anyway?"

"Babe," he looked over at me in long-suffering appeal. "_Please_!"

"OK, that's the end of the show," I waved my hands dismissively. "You saw him; he's hot; he's more than spectacular in bed--or out of it--and he's all mine for the rest of the night. We're going back inside now. Ignore the screaming. Turn your porn up loud and forget what Carlos the No-Limp-Noodle Hunk and I are up to inside. Because _trust me_, I plan to do a lot more screaming before the night is through. So will he."

"You go, girl!" Amanda hooted.

"Don't do anything we wouldn't," Melinda grinned.

"Course that don't rule much out," Stella added, "Clearly he does kinky well: you two had to be either in the elevator or at the ice machine. Which one was it?"

"Ice machine," Tina guessed, "Right, Stevie?" I rolled my eyes, as she nodded smugly. "Thought so. His idea, not yours, right?" I just grinned.

"_Babe_." Carlos folded his arms and gave me his own version of the Burg glare. Poor guy couldn't escape to the room, since I had the key card. And he was getting extremely unhappy at being devoured by five horny strangers who were openly speculating on his sexual talents, proclivities and the size of his…..um….instrument.

Considering it was _his_ fault we were in this position, I wasn't inclined to feel the least bit sorry for him. I told him my friends were going to find out if he insisted on this 'road trip' of his; we were just damned good and lucky they hadn't stumbled upon us--camera in tow--when we were in flagrante delicto moments earlier. For sure, I'd have murdered him for that one.

"He don't talk much, does he?" Ruby asked, "But then, it's not his conversational talents you're interested in, right? Honest to God, he is just the most sizzling hot piece of ass I've ever seen. What a _gorgeous_ hunk of man!"

"He sure is that," Amanda sighed longingly. "He's got to be the best looking man I've ever seen."

"Me too," Melinda admitted, "If I can't have him, I'm glad Stevie can. After that piece of shit ex of hers, she deserves to be happy."

"Amen," Stella agreed, "You go get yourself some naked sweaty sex, baby girl, you earned it. And you--_Carlos_! Hey! Listen to me when I'm talking to you, big guy!"

He looked up, startled. Stella was petite, but she had a no-nonsense manner to her that made her a natural at running our office of strong personalities.

"You be good to our girl Stevie, you hear? Or we're gonna come looking to kick your fine hot ass. She's the best--you treat her that way. Or else you answer to us."

"Hear, hear!" Tina seconded firmly. "That's my best friend, Carlos. You make her happy or we'll find you--and you will _not_ be a happy camper. Guaranteed."

I smiled, enjoying the open show of solidarity from my friends. They were nosy pains in the ass sometimes, but they loved me--and I loved them. "Thanks, guys."

Carlos surprised all of us by giving his best 200 watt grin. "Don't worry: I'll take very good care of Stephanie, ladies. She's a very special woman, and I'm glad she has friends who appreciate her." He slid his hand around my waist and gave me a warm hug and a soft kiss on the temple that made me break out into a goofy smile.

There was a few minutes of stunned silence as the women collectively tried to pull themselves together after experiencing that truly blinding smile. The man was gorgeous when he scowled; when he grinned it was beyond spectacular.

"Holy shit!" Ruby muttered, "Be still my poor heart!" She fanned herself rapidly.

Tina's eyes looked as dazed as mine had been when I first laid eyes on him. She gave me a speculative look, then she looked over at Carlos again. She nodded to herself, then gave me a quick wink and a 'thumbs up'. "We'll stay out of your way, you two. No listening at the door, I promise."

I smiled. She was as good as her word, always.

"I appreciate that more than I can say," Carlos said quietly. I could see the beginnings of another smile as he finally began to relax.

"Course, you two make for the hallway for a second round, and all bets are off: I've got my camera handy and I'll use it," Tina smirked.

"I hear ya," he looked over at me and shook his head. "Stephanie warned me about you, Tina. I know what she meant now. _Babe_?"

Reading his mind, I handed him the key card and he wasted no time in unlocking my door and disappearing inside. I really didn't blame him: Ruby looked like she was ready to jump his bones any second!

Tina stuffed the others behind her and prepared to close the door, "Have fun, sweetie," she leaned in and gave me an affectionate hug. "You two look good together. I haven't seen you this happy in years, Stevie."

I nodded, "He's special, Tina. Really special."

"I could tell that," she whispered, "This is not like you at all, Stevie. But looking at him, I can see why you were tempted. And he actually seems like a nice guy who appreciates you, so that makes me feel better. I don't have to stay up all night and worry about you being taken advantage of when you were three sheets to the wind."

"I'm fine. He bought me dinner," I confessed, "He's not taking advantage of me, Tina. I know exactly what's happening tonight. He's been very open and honest about everything from the very beginning. And I picked him up, not the other way around. It's just a one night stand, but I want him so much it scares me. So don't worry: I'm a big girl, I know what I'm doing."

"Is he married?" Tina worried.

"He's in the Army," I sighed, "He's shipping out on a long tour of duty in a day or so. Somewhere overseas, he can't say where. So, he can't make any kind of plans for a future. But it's not just sex for either of us. Well...it _is_…but it's _not_. It's just--complicated."

"I'll keep positive thoughts for you, sweetie," Tina gave me another hug, "I can feel these things. You know I have a sixth sense." She did, too. "All is going to work out fine in the end. Trust me. You'll get your happily ever after, I can just feel it."

"Yeah," I smiled, "That would be wonderful. But even if it doesn't happen that way--it's worth it, Tina. Just for tonight with him. He's worth everything."

"Oh, my God! You're falling in love with him, aren't you?" Tina said softly.

"I'm already there, Tina," I nodded, "And he told me---"

"What?"

I looked behind me, and the corridor was empty. Damn, I had to tell _someone_! The feeling was bubbling up in me. "You speak Spanish, right? He told me 'te amo'--that means 'I love you', doesn't it?"

Her eyes widened, "He actually said it? For real?"

"He blurted it out, then he looked like he was ready to pass out. He didn't mean to say it. But he did. Then he said something about 'how things have to be'. But that's what it means, _yes_?"

"That's what it means, sweetie. He didn't mean to say it?"

"Nope, it took him by surprise. It was after we'd--_you know_."

"Had sex."

"Mindblowingly sensational Beyond Doomsday Orgasm sex."

"OMIGOD! You're kidding!!"

"I swear to God, Tina," I whispered, turning my head again and checking to be sure I was alone. "He made me literally _pass out _it so was phenomenal! The man is a Cuban Sex God! It's so spectacular I can't even believe it. And it gets even better every time we do it. Honest to God, he's just the absolute best in the entire world. At _everything--_if you get what I'm saying."

"Damn!" Tina's eyes lit up, "No wonder you were doing all that hollering! Go ahead and get back there before he comes looking for you. And make sure you're using protection."

"We are. He stopped for condoms on the way up. A whole box." I grinned, "And he plans on using them all tonight, he says."

"No way in hell." Tina's jaw hung open.

"Way." I smirked.

"Get out."

"I swear to God."

"I want details tomorrow. About _everything_. Promise me right now. Or else all bets are off and I'm sitting outside your door listening in for hours."

I danced a happy dance and then gave her a quick hug. "OK, I promise. But just between us--_swear it_!"

"Cross my heart and hope to die. How big?"

"XXXL! _Humongous. _Length _and _width."

"Shit."

"Yeah, that's what I said. I thought he was bragging. He wasn't."

"Holy Mother of God," Tina wailed, "I hate you."

"You're just jealous of me."

"Freaking right I am. Girlfriend, you were screaming so loud you drowned out our sorry little porn movie, 'Naked Came The Stranger'. And trust me, you were making more noise than all of the women in that masterpiece combined."

"How many are there?" I asked, curious. I'd only ever seen one porn movie and it had been pretty damned boring…

"Three so far," Tina reported, "All DD. And sadly they're clearly having a lot more fun with each other than they are with the guy. He's not very big where it matters. But he's bigger than that lame ass stripper, so we're making do with what we got. Liquor helps. A lot. We're all kinda tanked, to tell the truth."

"Bitch Gladys."

"Amen."

"That just ain't right, Tina. She had $75 a pop from each of us. That's almost a thousand bucks. And we got Drew Carey and some pigs in a blanket."

"Yeah. The others went out for Italian, they were all starving. We were horny so we came up here. Big mistake."

"I know the feeling, though: I was so horny I damned near jumped Carlos in the bar. Literally."

"Hey, now that I've seen him, I understand perfectly. This guy in the porn film isn't even hot, to tell you the sad truth," Tina sighed unhappily. "But we're all pretty damned desperate. It's a fuckin _bachelorette_ party, for Chrissakes! We need us a naked man."

"I hear ya," I commiserated. "But speaking of---I got places to be and a hot guy to do. So I'll leave you to sort that all out."

"You planning on making a lot more noise tonight?" Tina asked wistfully.

"I'm planning on riding him like Zorro," I confirmed happily.

"Fucking A."

"Damned straight."

I gave her a finger wave and walked over to my door, tapping quietly on the door. There was no answer. "Carlos?"

Nothing.

I rapped louder. "Carlos! Hey, _Superman_! Get your hot Cuban ass over here and let me in!"

Minutes later the door opened. "Sorry." He looked sheepish, running his hand through his disheveled hair.

"You fell asleep, didn't you?" I smirked.

"Just for a few minutes," he admitted.

"I wore you out," I was insanely pleased with myself. "I'm too much woman for Superman to handle! He needed a nap!! Damn!! I frickin rock!!"

"Get in here," he hauled me inside and gave me a kiss that curled my toes. "You finish dishing the dirt on me with your sex-crazed girlfriends? Can they leave me not one shred of dignity? I felt like a piece of meat."

"Hey, you brought this all on yourself with your damned 'road trip', remember? I warned you they'd be out in the hallway looking for any sign of us. But did you listen to me? No. You knew better."

"Good thing for you they didn't show up when you were ripping my clothes off and fucking me senseless by the ice machine."

"Good thing for _me_? Ha! Good thing for _you_! Ruby wants you badly! Well, they all do, but especially Ruby."

"If Ruby's the old bat I think she is, she's one scary woman, Babe."

"She's highly sexed," I grinned, "I gave you a great review, by the way."

"Geez, thanks," he groaned. "You didn't tell them---"

"Not _all _of it," I defended myself. "I had to explain why I was screaming so loud. I want them to know I have high standards."

"Shit. Now I'm definitely staying locked in here until she checks out--when?"

"Sunday morning. For her, I mean. For me--"

"When?"

"Monday morning."

"Spend tomorrow night with me, Babe."

I looked at him in amazement. "Tomorrow night? I thought---"

"I ship out Monday afternoon. That means I'm checking out of the hotel early on Monday. But I want to spend every minute with you I can before I go, Babe. Will you? Can you? Please?"

I wanted to cry. He wanted more time with me! I nodded, not trusting my voice, then he pulled me into his arms and gave me a deep long kiss. "I want to be with you for however long we can get, Carlos."

"Fill me in on your plans for the weekend, Babe. I have some things I have to do, but I'll work around your schedule."

"The wedding is tomorrow afternoon, followed by the reception tomorrow evening. Then Sunday a few of us were going to go into the City to see a show and spend the day. But I'll stay here…if you're going to be around?"

"I have to meet some people, but I can reschedule and see them tomorrow instead of Sunday. I have a thing I have to go to tomorrow morning…and then somewhere else in the afternoon. But I'll be back by tomorrow evening. And I'll keep all of Sunday free for just us. We can go for a long drive, go anywhere you want, do anything, see anything you want. Have lunch, dinner. Go dancing. Spend the weekend together. Wake up in each others' arms. How does that sound, Babe?"

"Wonderful! More than wonderful. Oh, yes, please," I hugged him tightly, "It doesn't matter if we go anywhere, just as long as we can be together."

"I don't have the right to ask you, but I want that time, Stephanie. I want every last second I can get. It's selfish, but--"

"Then I'm selfish too. Because I want it just as much as you do."

"Babe," he leaned in and took my face between his hands, taking a deep breath, "You know what you mean to me, don't you? You know how I feel about you?"

I smiled, blinking away the tears, "I know what 'te amo' means, Carlos."

"I love you, Babe. I need you to know that. I didn't expect it. I didn't want it. But it happened. And I want you to know how I feel about you--so you have no doubt in your mind at all what this thing between us was about, not ever."

"I love you too, Carlos." I stroked his cheek tenderly, "I didn't want to say it back to you, because I knew that you didn't want to hear it. But I was going to tell you before when we--"

"I know you were, Babe," he nodded, "And I cut you off because I didn't want to get your hopes up for a future I can't promise you. All I can give you is this weekend. Comes Monday, I have to go and…" he trailed off, unable to put the words out there.

"This weekend is more than enough," I responded firmly, "No regrets, no holding back anything--for _either _of us. Remember what we agreed to from the very start? Being totally honest with each other, not making promises we can't keep. Keeping it all real. That's what we'll do. Live every minute and remember it forever."

"I wish it could be different, Babe. You have no idea how much I wish that."

"Don't live in the past or get lost in the future. Live in the here and now, Carlos. We have so many hours still ahead of us. So much to enjoy. Don't think about Monday until we have no other choice."

"Can you do that, Steph? Is it fair of me to ask you to?"

"You're not _asking_ me to do anything, Carlos. I'm telling you how I feel. I can do it; I can do whatever I have to in order to get more time with you. You're worth everything. I have no doubts about that at all."

"I love you, Babe. And I've never said that to anyone before and meant it. Hell, I never knew what it felt like to really be in love. Until now. Until you. Eres el amor de mi vida, Estefanía. Eres mi todo."

"What does it mean?"

"You're the love of my life, Stephanie. You're my everything."

"And you can say that to me and honestly wonder if you're being _fair_?" I brushed the tears out of my eyes and shook my head, "I love you more than anyone in this world, and I always will. And a weekend with you is worth more than a lifetime with anyone else. Don't ever doubt that, Carlos. Because I won't. Not for a second."

"Babe."

We just stared at each other, memorizing everything. Drinking in each other. Holding each other so tightly it seemed we could never let go.

"I just have one question, Superman."

"Anything, Babe."

"Do we still get to use up that package of condoms tonight?"

"Do you want to?"

"Are you _demented_? Of course I want to!"

A big wolf grin. "Then you need to take your turn, because I'm more than ready to deliver on my promise."

"Anything goes, right? Still?"

"Right."

"Good. Because I'm not going all mushy on you now that I love you and you love me. I'm still planning on fucking the hell out of you and totally exhausting you while I rack up one orgasm after another. Just so you know."

"Glad to hear it, Babe."

"My turn, huh?"

"I'm waiting…."

"You're going to be soooooooooooooo sorry you said that. Especially if I draw either one of my two really really hot ones."

"Really?" His eyebrow lifted interestedly. "So you're telling me that I haven't seen the hot ones yet?"

"Not even close, Superman. I'm just getting started here."

"Good thing I had that nap, huh?"

"Yep, that 10 minutes should really help you out a whole lot."

He grinned, holding the ice bucket out happily, "Go for it, Babe."

I reached in and did just that.

And I pulled out a _really _good one.

Oh, boy!

This was going to be fun!


	15. Chapter 15

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 15

"So how much trouble am I in with this new one?" Carlos indicated the paper in my hand with just the tiniest hint of a smile. "You want my belt again? Do I get my poor ass whipped one more time by the Dominatrix Princess?"

"Hadn't really planned on it this time," I considered, "But if you're _really_ into that kind of thing, I could always work in another round of Intergalactic Princess and Slave for you."

"Thanks, but no thanks," he laughed, backing away, hands teasingly on his backside. "Just trying to be prepared, is all. You have that dangerous gleam in your eye, Babe."

"That's because I pulled one of my favorites," I grinned, "And I've been looking forward to this one all night. You have no idea what you're in for, Superman. None at all."

"You gonna let me read it?" He held out his hand.

"Need to know basis," I echoed his words from the previous fantasy. "You don't need to know just yet."

"Somehow I knew you were gonna say that." He didn't look terribly offended.

"But I will give you a hint though: I'm very hungry," I purred, letting my eyes travel slowly over his body. "Very very hungry. _Voracious_, in fact."

"Really? That sounds…_promising_." His voice had lowered into that husky growl that told me he was really turned on.

"It's going to be sex like you've never had it before, Superman. Guaranteed." I licked my lips lasciviously, and watched his eyes darken in arousal.

"You sure about that, Babe? I've been around the block a few times."

"I'm positive. And not around _this_ block, you haven't…."

"Tell me more."

"Well, how about this: considering how tired you were after your fantasy, it's a very good thing for you that I pulled this one right now."

"And why exactly is that, Babe?"

"Because you'll be spending all of it flat on your back."

A big wolf grin. "I'm getting hard already just thinking about it."

"Not as hard as you're going to be when I get through with you."

"Christ, Babe, tell me what you want me to do."

"Strip. Slowly." My eyes sparkled as I watched him unbutton the lone button left on his black silk shirt. I held out my hand and stopped him as he was about to toss it to the floor. "Save it for your costume. Since you do so much _love_ costumes…."

"I'm taking it off, right?" Now he was confused.

"You're ripping it into strips, just like you offered to back when we first headed upstairs."

"You're going to tie me up?" If I'd had any doubt at all that he'd allow it, that doubt was gone now. His eyes were almost black, and he tore the silk without a moment's hesitation. "Now what?"

I held out my hand, "Give them to me. Then take off your jeans and your boots. Slowly. And turn around so I can get a good look at every rock-hard inch of you."

"_Babe_…."

He complied, and I smacked my lips in open appreciation. "From the minute I laid eyes on you, I had this overwhelming urge to lick every single delicious inch of your body."

"Oh, Christ."

"Now I'm going to do just that. But I have to tie you up first. You want to know why?"

"Because you're kinky?" he teased, his 200 watt grin firmly in place.

"Look who's talking," I scoffed, "_No. _Because I'm planning on taking my own sweet time driving you completely and totally out of your mind while I lick and suck and nibble and bite….."

"You keep that up, Babe, and I'm going to cum right now."

"Not yet you aren't. But you will. Like you never have before." I stalked determinedly towards him, shoving him onto the bed roughly. "Put your arms over your head."

"Are you going to get undressed?" He was looking at me like he was ready to help me do it here and now.

"Oh, trust me: I have plans you're going to be very happy with. But you don't need to know about them just yet. Arms over your head."

He raised his arms and his eyes held mine as I dragged the silk strips over his naked chest, teasing his nipples to hardness before I used them to secure him to the bed frame.

"Tight enough to hold you?" I whispered, my lips just millimeters from his. "Struggle for me, Superman. Let's see just how hot you look when you're really desperate to break free."

"_Babe. _If I really wanted to be free, I'd have you naked and under me in less than a minute." His voice was a low growl that made my nipples pucker under my jersey dress. His eyes caressed them, and he licked his lips teasing me. "And you'd enjoy every minute of it."

"That I would. But you won't break free, Carlos. Why? Because you _love_ the idea of what I'm planning on doing to you. And we both know it."

He grinned, "God, I do love the way your mind works."

"That's not all you love," I slid my hand over his shoulders, tracing down his chest, and then climbing off the bed.

"Where are you going?"

"Getting into costume, of course! Close your eyes."

I watched him comply, and took a few minutes to memorize every delicious mocha latte inch of his perfectly formed body. Then I took what I planned to wear and disappeared into the bathroom for a quick change.

Moments later, I was ready for action.

"Open your eyes, Carlos. See what I have planned for you."

"Holy Christ!" His voice was thick with lust.

"You like?"

I stood in front of the bed, clad only in my most daring black lace teddy and thigh high black stockings. I'd chosen my sexiest stilettos--they boasted a 4 inch heel, and the black snakeskin had straps that wrapped around my feet and my ankles with a tiny gold chain. They were more than FMPs; they were an orgasm on legs.

"Cat got your tongue, Carlos?"

"Your fantasy or not, if you don't get over here and fuck me in seconds, I'm going to rip these damned bonds off and take you right where you stand. With those shoes on."

"My my, I guess you aren't that tired, after all, are you?"

"I'm not kidding, Babe. I don't have limitless self-control. I want you so God-damn bad it hurts."

I moved over to him, then straddled his body, rubbing my crotch against his now hard length. "But you have to try to be patient, because you're gonna like what I have planned for you. I promise."

"You look so fuckin hot, Babe. I could cum just at the sight of you."

"What a coincidence: I was just thinking the same thing about you." I leaned in and kissed him lightly, "But neither one of us is cuming anytime soon, Carlos. First you're going to be my dessert."

"Meaning?" An eyebrow raised in interest.

"You know _exactly_ what I mean." I ran my hands lightly over his face, tracing his lips with my index finger. "I'm going to lick every inch of you---every single delicious inch. Especially my favorite XXXL inches."

His eyes glittered, "Oh, God, _yes_!"

"Do you like my costume, Carlos?"

"MMMMMMM."

"Do you notice something?" I climbed off, and then lifted my right leg and set it on his chest, giving him a bird's eye view of my long legs and killer shoes. "Do you have a question for me?"

"I love the shoes, Babe. They're the best so far. You could do a porn film with those. With that whole costume, in fact. You're going to be doing one later tonight."

"I am, huh? Mr. Kinky? You planning on starring with me?"

"Directing, Babe. You're going to be my leading lady."

"But how am I supposed to have fun if you're not in the movie with me?"

"You'll have fun, Babe. We both will. Just don't rip that little teddy off because I'm planning on doing that myself."

"But you'd be OK with me if I just _peeled_ it off? Just to give you a look at--what did you call it--'the goods'?"

"Oh, yeah," he breathed huskily, "Peeling is _really_ good, Babe."

"But not quite yet. I'm surprised you haven't asked the question yet."

He looked at me intently, then re-examined my leg. Then a slow smile formed. "I know what you want. Why did you make me tear up my shirt if you had those stockings you could have used to tie me down?"

"Clever boy. I'm so glad you asked. Why? Because I love looking at you without your shirt…that body of yours is to die for, Carlos. It's a sin to cover it up. So now you can't. You have to spend the rest of the night here naked and I can drink in the sight of you for hours and hours. You're just lucky I haven't torn up your jeans."

He grinned, "Horny little thing, aren't you?"

"You know it."

"I do, Babe. And I love it. I love you."

"I love you, too. But I'm not untying you and fucking you yet. So lie back and prepare to be tortured."

"Now what are you doing?"

I had moved over to the room service trolley, and my back turned to him. I was selecting my choice of topping. "I'm in the mood for chocolate. Chocolate covered Carlos, that is." I glided over to the bed with the cup of chocolate mousse in my hand, and sat on the side of the bed. "Do you want a taste?"

He shook his head, but he was breathing unsteadily--and I liked it.

"I'm going to start _here_…" I dipped my index finger into the mousse and painted his nipples with quarter-sized circles. My tongue darted out of my lips and in seconds, the mousse was gone. "Tasty. But not enough. I need more." This time I dipped two fingers in the mousse and began decorating his 8 pack, gliding my fingers over his skin soft as silk, swirling a heart and writing S & C inside. "Late for Valentine's Day," I teased, "But better late than never."

"Babe." His voice was almost a purr.

"Feels good?" I added more of the mousse to his chest, making tiny little hearts all around the big one that now graced his body. "Now I think I need to add some raspberry." I licked the mousse off my fingers and crossed over to the trolley to grab the plate of cheesecake with its raspberry sauce. "I'm going to fill in the hearts with this, that way they'll be nice and red and yummy. See how talented I am?"

"You're gonna put all that dessert on me?" He seemed somewhat incredulous, but he definitely wasn't protesting at all. I knew he was looking forward to the next step: me licking it off slowly. So was I….

"I ordered four, and I told you that you'd be surprised what I planned to do with them," I reminded him. "I'm going to coat your cock in tiramisu. That's my favorite dessert. I can't wait to eat that--that's going to be so good. I'm gonna save that for last."

"Babe, you're killing me."

"I'm torturing you. And I'm only getting started. It's going to get a lot worse before you get any relief at all. I should make you answer questions. You want a back story? You can be James Bond. I'm Pussy Galore. And I'm going to pull all of your top secrets out of you before I finally fuck you to death. How about that?"

He laughed softly, "You could certainly try. But I don't give out information easily. I'm very well trained. Don't let that stop you, though, Pussy. Do your worst."

"Oh, I'm going to. First I have to get my painting done. And I'll think of my questions. Then when I get ready to start, you'll be desperate to tell me anything at all I want to know. Anything."

"We'll see. I don't think so."

I took my own sweet time stroking on the tiramisu, and by the time I'd covered his fully-hardened cock in the creamy mixture he was writhing in pleasure and moaning softly. I'd been very creative in my placement of the ladyfingers: they now framed his erection like a museum painting.

"And some over here," I decided, gliding my fingers over his hip to trace a huge WW in whipped cream. "And then over here, I think I'll put…_this_." A Superman logo balanced out the design on the other hip. "What do you think? I have a future in this, don't I?"

Carlos shook his head, biting his lip and murmuring softly in Spanish.

I grinned, "You probably don't want to translate that for me, do you?"

He shook his head, the strain showing on his face.

"Cursing me out?"

"Babe! You're driving me insane. Enough with the damned tiramisu."

"OK," I pretended to be agreeable. "I'm finished with it." I waited for his sigh of relief, then returned with the dish of melted ice cream. "Let me see what we have here." A low growl came from the bed. I ignored him, poking about in the dish with my spoon. "Walnuts. And a cherry. Now I can't put them just _anywhere_. I'd ruin my pretty design. So I have to find exactly the right place….."

"Babe!"

"Well, how about _here_? I'll put some syrup down _here_…" Drizzling it down his upper thighs. "Then I can put some walnuts in a line here leading up to the best part of my dessert. And then my cherry can go right…._here_." I placed it on the tip of his cock.

"What the hell do you want me to answer?" His voice was soft but resigned.

"How old are you? When's your birthday?"

"26, August 12. What about you?"

"I'm not in the business of handing out information," I said primly, "I'm the torturer, not the victim."

"Payback, Babe."

"Will have to wait its turn. What's your middle name?"

"Carlos."

"OK, so that means you have a really horrible first name. What is it?"

He shook his head, "I told you my middle name. That's all you get."

"You'll tell me later. I have more questions. They'll get harder. So will you."

"Bitch."

"And who's lying there hard as a rock looking at the bitch? Dreaming of having her mouth lick off every inch of this and give him the hottest blow job of his life?"

"That would be me," he admitted, a deep sigh escaping as he wiggled into the bed. "That's cold there, Babe. And it's running between my legs and making me crazy."

"Of course it's cold--it's ice cream, 007. I'm going to use more if you don't start being more cooperative. Maybe I'll drizzle the rest of it all over your balls. Then I can coat them in the rest of these chopped walnuts…."

"Ricardo."

"That's a sexy, strong name. Why don't you use it?"

"My father's name is Ricardo. So I use Carlos."

"You're named after him?"

He nodded.

"You the only son? Or just first born?"

"Neither. I have an older brother. Named Alejandro."

"Sisters?"

"Four."

"Where are you in the family?"

"Middle."

"See how easy this is to give information?"

"Just keep that damned ice cream away from my balls, Babe. I'll sing like a canary."

"Ever been married?"

"Hell, no."

"A true romantic at heart."

"My life doesn't lend itself to marriage, Babe. I go on duty for 18 months at a time, no telling if or when I'll get back. Not conducive to building a relationship."

"Did you always want to be in the Army? From when you were a kid, I mean?"

"Not really. I wanted to be Superman. Then I spent more years getting myself in trouble than I care to remember---"

"Define 'trouble'."

"Gangs. Fighting. Drugs. Stealing cars."

"Busy little bee, was our little Carlos."

"You name it, I did it."

"So you joined the Army? To straighten up?"

"Basically. Or else I'd have ended up in prison. Or dead."

"Are you happy doing what you're doing?"

"Most of the time. I'm good at it. But at times like this, no--I'm not happy at all. I'd rather be doing other things."

"Like?"

"Hauling you into bed and staying there for weeks at a time. Fucking you over and over. Slathering whipped cream on your body and making you beg me to lick it off. Speaking of which---"

"I'm almost done decorating," I said, smiling. "Keep talking, I like hearing the sound of your voice. It inspires my artistic vision."

"Babe. You're making such a mess here! We have to sleep on these sheets."

"Oops! I guess I forgot about that part. But really, come to think of it: we're not going to be doing any sleeping, so it'll be just fine."

"Oh, God. What the hell are you doing now?"

"I'm decorating your leg with arrows. Pointing up to my favorite part."

"It's dripping all over me, Babe."

"Answer some more questions and maybe I'll stop."

"What do you want to know? I can't talk about where I'm going or what I'm doing. Or how long I'll be gone."

"How old were you when you lost your virginity?"

"_That's_ what you want to know?"

"Tell me about it. Was she older or younger? Was it good?"

"And you want to know this, _why_?"

"Because it's a really really private and intimate thing to know about someone. And I want to know something about you that no one else knows. You haven't told anyone, have you? Your friends? Your family?"

"Hell, no."

"So, tell me."

"I'll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours."

"OK. You go first."

"I was 14. She was an older woman in the neighborhood. Early thirties."

"Oh, kinky, right? She seduced you? Mrs. Robinson?"

"Sort of. I was doing odd jobs that summer, saving up to buy a new bike."

"She paid you??"

"No! I'm not _that _kinky, Babe."

"OK, so tell me more."

"Nothing to tell. We did it, end of story."

"You're smiling. No--you're not. You're _smirking_! Oh, you definitely need to tell me the rest of it. This is a good story, I can tell."

"I was cutting her lawn. She was watching me from her porch."

"Did you have your shirt off?"

"_Babe_."

"Bet you were hot even at 14."

"I didn't get any complaints."

"You're smirking again. You were hot, all right. So, what? You had your shirt off. Sweating. You had all those muscles gleaming…"

"She asked me if I wanted to come in for a glass of lemonade."

"The old 'glass of lemonade' ploy, eh?? Did you know what she really wanted? Or were you really thinking you were just getting lemonade?"

"You're very nosy--anyone ever tell you that, Babe?"

"All the time. What's your point?"

"If you're going to press for more details, you gotta start licking this stuff off me before I lose my mind. I smell so damned sweet I can't stand it!"

"You smell delicious."

"To you--not to me. I hate sugary messy desserts, Babe. I'd much rather eat fruit."

"Pick a spot and I'll start licking. You keep talking."

"You know the spot---"

"That's _last_, Carlos. Notice how nicely it's staying up."

"It's propped by those damned cake things."

"Lady fingers."

"I'd rather have your fingers."

"You're going to. And my mouth. And my tongue."

"_Babe_!!"

"Not yet. First I'll do your shoulders. And then I'll make a detour at your throat." I proceeded to live up to my promise, eliciting a low purr from my dessert coated victim.

"Over here, too." He jutted his chin out, and I dived in for a few nibbles at his jaw line and yeah--a few soft kisses as our tongues played games with each other.

"So, tell me about Mrs. Robinson seducing you. Was she married? Where was her husband?"

"She was divorced. He ran off with some other woman. Big scandal in the neighborhood. She was quiet, kept to herself. Pretty. Blonde. Nice figure."

"Big boobs."

"Not bad."

"She invited your hot sweaty muscular virgin self inside, and how long did it take to charm the pants off you?"

"About 5 minutes. I was pretty easy." He grinned.

"_Slut_."

"I was definitely willing to be."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Babe, I was 14. One minute I was mowing the lawn in 100 degree heat, the next I had my shorts down around my ankles with my cock deep in a woman's throat. What's not to enjoy?"

"Did you ever finish mowing the lawn?"

"Are you kidding? What damned lawn?"

Carlos laughed heartily, and I joined him. "So did you go back for seconds?"

"It was a very….interesting summer."

"Slut."

"What about you? How old were you?"

"16. He was two years older than I was. From the neighborhood--the Burg. Chambersburg. I'd grown up with a huge crush on him. I was working in the Tasty Pastry for the summer, and he came in just before closing one night."

"And? Wait--you missed a spot."

"Can't have that, can we?" I flicked my tongue back over his throat, licking off the last of the chocolate, before diving in for another lingering kiss on his lips. "Now I'm in the mood for some raspberry covered chocolate."

"What about some tiramisu?"

"Later. But I'm very impressed with your staying power, 007. My own little Eiffel Tower is still perfectly erect. Just calling to me……"

"So get back to your story. You were 16 in the bakery…"

"And two minutes later I was on the floor, my uniform up to my waist, virginity gone, watching Joe Morelli pull his jeans up over his hairy ass and walk out without a second glance."

"Sounds cold, Babe."

"Let's just say, losing your virginity at 16 on the floor of a bakery to a guy who then writes about it on the wall of the local sub shop---"

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Nope. In detail, yet. Then he goes off to the navy. Leaving me with the rep of town slut."

"_Babe_."

"It's OK. My mother freaked, naturally. I was under house arrest for months. My father would have killed him with his bare hands if the bastard wasn't safely out of the country on a ship somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. But I got even. Eventually."

"This sounds ominous."

"Two years later I saw the jerk walking down the street. So I ran over him with my Grandfather's Buick. Broke his leg in 4 places."

"Babe!"

"Didn't feel the need to write about that on the sub shop wall, either. It was all over the Burg in less than an hour."

"Remind me not to mess with you, Killer."

"Consider yourself warned," I winked, then set to work cleaning off every last drop of the raspberry and chocolate mousse on his chest as he squirmed in very vocal ecstasy.

"Oh, God," he groaned, some 20 minutes later, "Steph, Babe, I'm _begging_ you---"

"You taste so damned good," I sighed blissfully, "You and chocolate and whipped cream and ice cream----and tiramisu still to come."

"Just make sure you save room for the best part," he pleaded.

"I will," I giggled, licking my lips and gleefully launching into another well-coated patch of deliciousness. "I'm being very careful to clean up every mouthful so nothing goes to waste. Aren't you proud of me?"

"Lick faster," he moaned, "What else can I answer for you?"

"Offering information now, are we?" I smirked, "Whatever would the high mucky mucks make of that?"

"They'd understand," he groaned, "You have no idea how hot you look in that tight little barely there black lace number."

"My teddy."

"Take something off, please."

"My stockings?"

"Yes!"

I stood, then lifted one leg up to the bed. I very very slowly peeled down my thigh high black nylon stocking, watching his eyes follow every move I made. I slipped off my stiletto, then removed the stocking and tossed it carelessly over my shoulder. "Now the other one." I repeated my strip-tease, then leaned in for another deep long kiss. "And now the shoes go back on, yes?"

"Christ, yes."

"You want to see more skin, Carlos?"

"I want to touch you." He tugged at the bonds, his eyes darkening. "Finish this soon, Babe. I can't hold out much longer."

"Almost, but not quite time," I teased. "But maybe this will help take your mind off your wait." I crossed my arms over my breasts and oh-so-slowly slid down the spaghetti straps of the black lace teddy, allowing the bodice to skim low on my breasts. "How's that?"

"More," he said, thickly.

"How about this?" I slid the teddy down to my waist, revealing my breasts to his hungry eyes. I skimmed my hands over my breasts and my nipples pebbled immediately. "Do you like that?"

"Please!"

"You want still more?" I teased.

He muttered darkly in Spanish, and pulled at his bonds.

"I guess that means yes." I held his eyes and shimmied out of the teddy, dropping it to the floor. I stood naked, wearing only my stilettos, and ran my hands over my body, cupping my breasts. "I'm going to eat my tiramisu now, Carlos."

"Jesus, Babe, will you _do_ it? I can't hold out much longer! I want you so bad, you have no idea."

"Oh I have a very good idea," I purred, settling in for a scrumptious feast. "But you have to talk to me while I enjoy my tiramisu. Or else I can't eat."

"What do you want me to talk about?"

"I thought you were trained not to give out information, 007."

"Forget the damned games, Babe. You're killing me, here. Name it. Whatever you want, I'll do. Whatever you want me to say, I'll say."

"Has it ever been this good with anyone else?"

"Not possible, Babe. No way in hell could anyone do to me what you do. What you have done."

"What I'm going to do."

"When I saw you tonight, I knew I wanted you. I knew I'd die if I didn't have you."

"So you came over to talk to me?"

"You'd already gone back inside by then. You were with the red-head. What's her name?"

"Melinda. Wait? You saw us? I thought---"

"I was there when you both came in for your drinks. I'd just walked into the bar. Looking for someone, anyone. Then I saw you. And I didn't want anyone else from that moment on. Just you. God, I couldn't take my eyes off you, Babe. I wanted to scoop you up, toss you over my shoulder and haul your gorgeous sexy body off to bed and fuck you for hours."

I was literally speechless. "You did?"

"I watched you go back in that room, and I went over to see who you were with. Who my competition was. Because I was determined to have you, however long it took. Whatever I had to do or say. And I saw you were with your friends, and I thought for a moment you were the bride. I saw that damned paper wedding bell on the table, the crepe paper decorations, the 'congratulations' banner. But I didn't care. I was going to seduce you. Hell, if I had to drag you out of there and beg you to fuck me, I'd have done it."

He was speaking so softly, so intently, I honestly don't think he realized I was there anymore. I'd never imagined he wanted me that badly….hell, no one had _ever_ wanted me that badly in my whole life! Let alone this gorgeous, hot, hunky, sexy man that any woman would kill for!

"And I saw your stripper buddy. And when he went over to the blonde and gave her a lap dance, I realized _she_ was the bride, not you. I started breathing again. Because I knew you wouldn't give him a second look. So I just had to wait for you to come out again. Whenever that was. And so I went back to the bar and ordered another beer and kept watching until you finally did. Then I saw you, and I never moved so fast in my life as I did then…you were getting ready to leave."

"I was," I licked gently around his balls, enjoying the sensation of him on my tongue, hearing his breathing change, hearing his voice deepen as he registered the feel of my tongue on his sensitive skin. "Then I saw you."

"And I realized you were even more beautiful than you looked across the room. I saw your eyes…Babe, those eyes…I was lost. Completely lost. And I wanted you."

"I wanted you, too," I whispered, greedily sucking his balls as I felt my body losing control. I'd heard more than I could ever have hoped for. Now it was time to give him what I'd been promising him for the longest time. "I want you now, even more."

"Babe."

"I thought when I saw you that you were the most gorgeous looking man I'd ever seen in my life. I wanted you like I'd never wanted anyone. I wanted to lick every inch of your body..just like this. Just exactly like this." My hands caressed his balls as my tongue moved on to his cock, still hard and waiting impatiently for me to free it from its layer of whipped cream and mascarpone cheese. I flicked away the creamy mixture hungrily, then replaced my tongue with my mouth. His hips jerked as I began to suck him greedily, taking as much of his huge hard length into my mouth as I possibly could. My hands fisted around his base and I set to work driving him out of his mind.

He struggled with the bonds, and I heard the snap that meant that he'd finally freed himself. His hands pushed my curly hair from my face and I looked up to find him staring at me with an intensity that made me shiver. I knew I was one step away from being rolled over onto my back and fucked unconscious.

"You promised," I hissed, "I'm on top this time."

"I'm not Superman, Babe," he confessed, "I'm just Carlos. I can't hold out forever. I want you so damned much---"

I devoured the creamy mixture from his cock with a lust that surprised even me. Then I pushed his hands away and moved them back over his head. "My turn, damn it! This is my turn! Keep them here!"

I grabbed the condom package and ripped it impatiently with my teeth. I'd honestly planned to do it slower, but neither of us was in any condition to wait any longer. I'd have to use another fantasy to complete my slow seduction; he was too much for me now, I couldn't last another second without taking him inside me. I dressed him in the condom, and he gave a low whimper of relief at what he knew was coming at last.

I climbed onto him, impaling myself on his cock, sinking down, taking his entire length in with a single thrust. My eyes widened at how good he felt, it never ceased to amaze me how completely he filled me, how perfectly he felt inside me.

His breathing was rapid, he was clutching at the pillow, trying desperately not to lower his arms. "Ride me, Babe. Take what you want. Whatever you want."

"I want _you_!" I cried, "Only you, Carlos! Only you, ever!" My hands held on to his chest and I threw my head back in ecstasy, riding him as I'd always imagined doing. I ground my pelvis on him, rocking to the side, then leaning forward and letting him move in and out of me. I captured his mouth and we kissed long and deep, the feeling sending flames shooting all through my body.

"¡Monte mí, bebé! ¡Rápido y con fuerza!" (_Ride me, Babe! Fast and hard!_)

I quickened my pace, lost in the searingly pleasurable feel of it all. He was now making sounds that I couldn't even recognize as words, Spanish or otherwise. I was barely staying conscious, the orgasms coming in waves. We were both close to losing it.

"I can't hold out, Babe," he hissed, "I'm trying, but I can't---"

"Let go, Carlos," I commanded, "It's sooooooooooo fucking good! Take what you want now!"

"Babe!" He lowered his arms and seconds later I was on my back, his body covering mine, his arms wrapped tightly around me as he plunged into me with an almost savage fury. I'd snapped his iron control yet again, and now I was happily paying the price.

My nails sunk into his back and my legs locked around his waist as he pounded into me, sending me again over the edge just minutes before joining me himself. Our bodies were wracked with spasms, and our cries of pleasure filled the room.

Finally, we'd both completely spent ourselves, and lay locked together, his cock still buried inside me. I felt his lips brush against mine and he rolled off me with a deep groan, landing on his back like a mighty felled oak.

I lifted my arm to my forehead, brushing the riotous curls from my face while I tried to catch my breath. My heart was pounding rapidly and I felt tingles still running through my body. I was blissfully satiated, by both the incredible man who moaned lazily beside me, but also by my fill of no less than four sinfully delicious desserts. Stephanie Plum was one very happy woman. Thoroughly exhausted, but very very happy.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM." I offered up. It was the only sound my body was capable of making.

"Damn."

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM." I agreed.

"Babe."

I tried unsuccessfully to get the energy to turn my head. I settled instead for turning my eyes in his direction. "_WOW!_"

"_Yeah_."

Geez, we were both almost comatose!

We lay for a few more minutes before I felt myself being pulled closely to his body. Thanks to his Army training, he was in better shape than I was. I allowed myself to be carefully positioned in his arms, my head resting on his sticky chest. He smelled of chocolate and raspberries and a faint sweet hint of brandy. I licked my lips unconsciously.

"Condom's still on you."

"Can't move yet, Babe."

"Me either."

"_Babe_."

"You smell good."

"Need a shower."

"Feel free."

"Too tired, Babe."

"I hear ya."

"That was incredible."

"Best so far."

"Damned near killed me, Babe."

"I rode you like Zorro."

"You sure did."

"I meant to take longer."

"Then you definitely _would _have killed me."

"Glad I didn't."

"Me too."

"Carlos?"

"Yeah, Babe?"

"Is one of your fantasies maybe…_sleeping_?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing."

"We could make it a joint one? Baker's dozen."

He yawned loudly, "As long as I don't have to write it down. I seriously can't move."

I yawned back, "You think _I_ can? I was planning on giving you a bath and pampering you after I'd licked you all up. So you wouldn't be so sticky."

"That was a nice thought, Babe."

"I thought so. But I don't have the energy, so you're out of luck."

"Can't move to the bathroom anyway, so it doesn't matter."

"You smell really good though."

"Thanks, Babe."

"Can we sleep now?"

There was no reply.

"Carlos?"

Nothing.

"I guess that means yes."

I wrapped my arm around his chest, cuddled up, and two seconds later, I knew no more. He did make a damned fine pillow.


	16. Chapter 16

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 16

I shivered in pleasure as the waves lapped rhythmically over my ankles. The summer sunlight warmed my skin, and the coolness of the Atlantic Ocean felt refreshing on my bare feet as I padded down the Point Pleasant beach. For once I was alone: no noisy crowds of tourists ruined my mood, and I sighed contentedly as I inhaled the salt air greedily and surrendered myself to the power of the surf.

My tongue peeked out to taste my lips as the faint smell of chocolate grew nearer. Chocolate…what kind of chocolate? I sniffed deeper, my appetite growing. Ice cream! I _loved _ice cream! I looked around eagerly, anxiously surveying the vista for the ice cream parlor I knew had to be nearby. I could smell the syrup. The walnuts. Whipped cream. Cherries. A Sundae, oh yes, that was exactly what I needed right now! But where was it?

I turned my head, only to realize that there was still another scent wafting in the breeze. Raspberries! Sorbet, maybe? I licked my lips, now caught in indecision. Which would it be? Ice cream or sorbet? Or maybe---what was that? Brandy? What kind of ice cream was that? I didn't know, but I sure wanted some. I turned away from the surf and tried to head towards the boardwalk.

And I couldn't move.

Why the hell couldn't I move? I felt the first stirrings of unease, despite the peace that continued to flow through my body. It was bizarre. I felt safe, content, happy. But I couldn't move. And that alone was what concerned me. I _should _be able to move. What the hell was happening to me? What possible explanation could there be?

_OMIGOD!_ I'm caught in an undertow! I'm being dragged out to sea, never to be heard from again! Or worse! Some ferocious sea creature had a hold of me! I'd seen something on the Nature Channel about this kind of thing: I was sure of it. But what? I tried to pull free, and my scream choked in my throat as I now felt the hands that wrapped tightly around my thighs. They were strong hands. They were like bands of iron. What the living hell was happening to me? _Hands?? _Couldn't be _hands_!

My mind frantically processed any and all disastrous scenarios. With my atrocious luck, it could be anything from a stingray to an octopus to a shark! That was it! _A shark! _A shark had run aground and grabbed my tender skin and was ripping it to shreds! I was done for! I would be the lead story on the evening news: the unfortunate victim of a great White Shark attack that would eclipse the horror of _Jaws_ and send all the tourists screaming back to their safe little homes while I bled to death alone in the Atlantic.

My mother would have to identify my poor bloody body, and once again I'd be the cause of her getting calls from most of the Burg about my careless antics. My grandmother would storm Stiva's and demand an open casket. And I'd look like something the cat had chewed up and spit back out. She'd probably bring a camera and I'd have my picture printed on the front page of the newspaper so that all my friends could see. I'd be mortified. Wait, not mortified. I'd be _dead_. Well, that's mortified, come to think of it. 'Morte' was French for 'death'.

Omigod! Maybe I _wouldn't _die!? God, maybe I'd just lose a leg! All my gorgeously hot FMPs would be useless! I couldn't balance on 4 inch heels if I had only one leg and a bloody stump to limp on! And I'd have to figure out a way to buy flats…but I'd only need one, not a pair. Where the hell was I going to find a store that sold only one shoe? And what if they sold the wrong foot? Maybe I could advertise for a victim who'd lost the other leg? It would cut my shoe bill in half. Literally. Cut my shaving time in half too, now that I thought about it.

Did I want to be without my left leg or without my right? Which was more fashionable? Wait! Be practical, not fashionable, for once in your life, Stephanie! Right! _Right! _I needed my right leg to drive. I'd hope to lose the left leg instead.

Hell, I wanted more than a right leg! I wanted _both _my legs, damn it! I had a kick-ass collection of shoes and I wanted to keep wearing them. And keep adding more, for that matter. I had a right to a right _and_ a left leg! Damned fucking shark! Mess with _me_, huh? I'll show you!

OK, _think, Stephanie_. You can do this! You can get out of this! You have to! No one can hear you alone on the beach. It's up to you! You _go_, girl!!

I started kicking with a fury, picturing that ugly shark and swinging out for all I was worth. Wait! I wasn't barefoot after all! Hallelujah! I was wearing a pair of truly kick-ass stilettos that would do some major damage to the greedy little beast that had the nerve to attack me as I was enjoying my day at the beach. What luck!!

"Whoo-jah!" I screamed, scissor-kicking my way to safety, flapping my arms wildly and pounding on the top of the vile creature's hairy head. "_Whoo-jah_!!" I imagined the sound of my voice as a weapon, striking fear into the very depths of this evil creature's murky soul. If a shark even _had _a soul, that is. Probably not.

"Son of a bitch!" the shark yelped angrily, "Christ, almighty, Stephanie! You're killin me!"

SHIT! _The fucking shark knew my name! _It had come specifically to kill _me_! Damn it to all hell! What were the odds of _that_?! I had to be the most unlucky girl in the entire universe! Anyone else would be the victim of a _random_ shark attack. But not Stephanie 'I attract the crazies' Plum. Nope, not _me_! This God-damned shark was gunning for _me_ specifically! What had _I_ done to deserve this indignity? Sure I loved tuna fish. But I didn't think tuna and shark were related. It wasn't like I'd consumed a first cousin of his or something. _Had I? Shit, what if I had?_

"AAAAAAYYYYYY--YYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" I bellowed mightily, letting fly with a few more shots to the head. "Lemme go, you slimy son of a bitch _Jaws_ wanna-be! Go bite someone else's legs off! Besides, I've got a beach pass! Where's _yours_? Huh?? You haven't _got_ one, have ya?!"

"BABE!! Stephanie! Wake up, wake up! Hey, Babe! It's all right! You're fine, Babe. You're having a nightmare."

Like I'd fall for _that_ one! Damned shark thought I was _stupid_!

"_Whoo-jah_!!" I finally landed the shot that set me free! _Hooray for me! _I was one tough mother-f'ing shark killer! I rolled to safety, feet still kicking wildly.

THUD!

What the fuck?

_Now _what the hell had happened to me?

"Babe."

I squirmed uncomfortably on the floor, my sleep-addled brain now oh-so-slowly processing that I had apparently fallen off a bed and was now sitting naked--except for my shark killer FMPs--staring up at a truly hot-looking truly naked man.

With a cock so big my eyes about bugged out of my head.

_Shit! I didn't know they made them that big._

Maybe my luck wasn't so bad after all?

"_Babe_."

"Damn. Did I say that out loud?" I sighed, unhappily. "God, that's so _rude_ of me."

"Are you OK, Babe?" He peered quizzically at me. "You look really crazed down there."

"You're not a dangerous monster." I pointed out reasonably.

"Not the kind you need to worry about, anyway."

"You're not going to rip my leg off and leave me to bleed to death in the water?"

"Not planning on it, no."

He was gorgeous. And he did look kind of familiar. And not just his 10 foot long cock. Did I know him? Geez, I sure hoped I knew him. _He's more than hot. He's smoking hot!_

"Thanks, Babe."

"Crap. I said that part out loud too."

"You're still half asleep, Steph. I shouldn't have taken you by surprise. I of all people should know better than to sneak up on someone unaware. Sorry, Babe." He scooped me up in his arms and examined me closely. "We need a shower, but I don't want to take you in there before you're fully functioning."

Hah! As if I was _ever_ fully functioning!

I blinked, looking around the hotel room, now taking in the environment carefully. Oh, crapola! Once again I'd made a complete doofus out of myself. "Hey, Superman." God, I felt like a total imbecile now.

"Hey, Babe. Welcome back." He gave me a 200 watt grin. "You scared me there for a minute there."

"Join the club. What the fuck were you trying to do to me, anyway?"

"Babe. I was doing a Sleeping Beauty on you."

"A _what_?"

"You know. Like the fairy tale? I was waking you up with a kiss."

"A kiss?"

"You know--a kiss. _Down there_. A kiss."

I groaned, the pieces now falling into place. The strong hands gripping my thighs. The dark head buried between my legs. The hungry mouth devouring me. Even the rhythmic lapping that had sent the ripples of pleasure running through my body non-stop. It all made sense now.

"You were doing the whole 'hacer la sopa' thing," I murmured.

He sighed, "The Wizard miscalculated badly, Babe. You were too sleepy to appreciate His magic skills."

I smiled goofily, "Sleeping Beauty?! Waking me with a kiss! Omigod! You were trying to be _romantic_! Carlos, that's so _sweet_!"

"I tried, Babe. Instead I ended up scaring the hell out of you and almost getting my eye put out by those lethal weapons you're sporting. You need a permit for those suckers, Babe. Or at least a warning label."

"I was dreaming I was walking on the beach and a hungry shark got hold of me. I was just defending myself."

"_Whoo-jah_?"

"Sounded pretty scary to me."

"Me too, Babe. The scissor-kicks were pretty damned impressive."

"Thanks. Did I hurt you?"

"Only my pride."

"Poor Wizard."

"I'll survive, Babe."

"I smelled you in my dream, you know. I was looking for the ice cream parlor."

"I smell me too, Babe. I'm about to scratch a layer of skin off, I'm so damned sticky."

"You tasted good, though."

He grinned. "Payback's a bitch, Babe. Remember that."

I wrapped my arms around him tighter, enjoying the sensation of being in his arms. "God, you really are ripped, Superman. You must live in the gym, huh?"

"Comes with the job, Babe. Feeling better now?"

"Uh-huh. I'm awake. And rested. How long did we sleep anyway?"

"About two hours, give or take. We still have time to do some major damage to the list, if you're still so inclined."

"That's a pretty stupid question for a pretty smart Wizard. Can we do it in the shower? I want to soap you up and run my hands all over those muscles."

"In that case, I think we could work something out, Babe. Between the two of us, we have a very good imagination."

"You need to pick a piece of paper from the bucket, because it's your turn. And be sure to bring the condom with you--I need you inside of me."

"First you need to take those lethal weapons off, Killer. And I'll join you in a few minutes." He set me gently on the ground and patted my ass, giving me a quick wink. "_Whoo-jah!_ To a _shark_, yet! What the hell am I gonna do with you, Babe?"

"Hurry up and pull the damned paper and we'll both find out!"

Carlos shook his head and walked over to the nightstand to grab our Holy Grail. I took the opportunity to check out 'the goods' as it were. Yep, still as gargantuan as I remembered. Holy Moly, Mother of God was he _huge_!

"Babe, do you want to know what---"

I gazed lovingly at his more than impressive package, a trickle of drool forming at the side of my open mouth. That was all gonna be for _me_. And very soon. Again and again. By my calculations, we had 7 fantasies left. Plus we had Saturday night and all of Sunday. If we didn't waste more than say 2 hours on sleep, we could probably----

"_Babe! _You could at least try looking at me when I'm talking to you."

"I'm looking. I'm looking."

"Not at the right head, you're not."

"Says you. This one down here's looking mighty right to me, Superman." I hadn't adjusted my gaze a millimeter. Stephanie Plum had _her _priorities straight, for damned sure!

"I thought size didn't matter to a woman."

"Total bullshit: size matters _a lot_, Superman. The only ones who say differently are the guys with cocks so small you need magnifying glasses to see them. Happily for both you _and_ me, that's not your problem."

He laughed, "You never disappoint, Babe."

"Neither do you. Do you feed that beast Miracle Grow or what?"

"Nah. I feed him over-sexed blue-eyed curly-haired brunettes. On a regular basis. Keeps him more than happy."

"Bet the brunette stays happy too."

"She certainly seems to be."

"Count on it. And you said he's up for another feeding, right?"

"Babe, the beast is always hungry."

"Just checking. Grab the bucket and let's not keep him waiting too long…."


	17. Chapter 17

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 17

"Damn it, Carlos! Forget about us keeping the beast waiting--what about keeping _me_ waiting?" I muttered unhappily, the warm water cascading down my impatient body as I rinsed the last of the lather out of my shoulder length curls.

I'd been standing in front of the glass door of the shower for an eternity, it seemed, posing in one suggestively tantalizing position after another--as we'd agreed--and waiting to be 'surprised' by my imaginative but kinky lover. And what a lover he was! My stomach was doing flip flops thinking of what was in store for me with this new fantasy he'd proposed.

What the hell was he _waiting_ for?? I was too damned horny to stand here until I pruned up! Besides, at this rate, we'd use up all the hot water before we got to the good stuff!

Well, I'd speed his entrance along right here and now: that's for sure!

I picked up my lavender-colored mesh shower pouf and applied a long squeeze of my current favorite shower gel: Bvlgari Green Tea, supposedly a 'unisex' fragrance. It was an early birthday present from my long-time best friend Mary Lou Stankovic. She was going to be on vacation next week with her family, and thus had taken me to lunch early, treating me to birthday cake and an indulgently wicked shower gel I'd loved from the moment I lathered up in its rich foam.

Good thing for Carlos I'd brought this along instead of one of my usual Victoria's Secret selections: I didn't see him as the type to enjoy floral fragrances on his perfectly-formed all-male muscular body. Nope, a light citrus with a hint of soothing green tea would do nicely for our joint shower. The last thing he would want was to smell even more aromatic than he already did from the chocolate and the raspberries.

_The chocolate and the raspberries. _Oh, God! I remembered every delicious second of licking them off his magnificent body. The melted ice cream. The chocolate syrup. Whipped cream and cherries. The tiramisu. Especially what that tiramisu had covered. What my hungry mouth had then _un_covered and feasted on for the most scrumptiously enjoyable meal of my life.

I wanted more. And I wanted it _now_.

No question about it: Stephanie Plum was into _immediate_ gratification. Always had been, always would be. Turning pruney in a shower in full hormonal lustful meltdown was _not _'immediate gratification'--by any stretch of the term.

"Hurry up, damn it all!" I bellowed impatiently, hearing a very faint but still intelligible chuckle coming from the direction of the bathroom door. "Move your hot freaky ass, Superman! I'm waiting!"

_Bastard._

He knew he was driving me insane.

He was enjoying it too.

_Fucker._

OK, now I was out for blood.

_Don't mess with Stephanie Plum. _Not when she's horny, and feeling deprived of the 11 inch slice of Heaven she's been promised, at any rate.

I'd show him, all right: this was WAR!

"OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH," I moaned in my best porn-star slutty sex bomb voice. "Feels sooooo goooood!" I undulated slowly, sensually gliding my hands over my wet skin, squeezing the rich foam all over every inch of my creamy breasts as I slithered the shower pouf lower and lower over my quivering tummy and finally down between my parted legs, where my doodah was more than happy to welcome the company.

The lather covered my body, momentarily clothing it in lightly citrus-fragranced bubbles, before it then washed down in torrents, leaving my naked skin glistening in its wake. I re-lathered, and then devoted myself to massaging it into my skin as vocally and sensuously as I possibly could.

I was squirming and ooohing and aaahing and wiggling and throwing my head back in ecstasy as I let my fingers glide over the lather to lovingly caress the skin beneath. No question, I was in full XXXX rated 'Naked Came The Stranger' performance mode. If they gave Oscars for Adult Film Performances, hey, I was clearly in the running. And I made sure _all_ of it was on open display framed in the glass shower door.

Nothing.

OK, _step it up here, Steph_.

I set the sudsy pouf down on the shelf of the shower, and--with no shower massager in sight, alas--decided to let my fingers do the talking for me. Hell, if a certain Cuban hottie wasn't going to climb in here and help me release some very serious sexual tension anytime soon, then I was just going to have to do it myself. Or do _me_ myself, as the case may be.

So I did just that.

My fingers slipped between my legs and I let them move teasingly over my slit, throwing my head back as I began to really get myself into the mood. One hand cupped my breast, my thumb and index finger rolling my nipple to a hard pea as I closed my eyes and pretended it was Carlos in here with me. The other hand was busy between my legs, and I let my thumb rove over Ground Zero as I used two fingers to enter myself and inspire some very real heavy breathing.

Felt good…_very_ good, in fact. But Carlos would have felt ever so much better. In so many ways.

What was taking him so long to join me in here? I knew damned well I had to be turning him on. Hell, I was sure turning _myself_ on!

Then I realized I was going about this whole thing all wrong.

I was trying to lure Carlos into the shower with me. And instead I was providing him with what he'd already told me was one of his upcoming-on-the-list fantasies: me starring in a private little porn movie, with him directing all of the action. Duh, _not very smart, Steph_! He's going to stand there and watch the whole freaky show you're putting on, if you're willing to give him a 2-for-1 fantasy this time! The man is kinky; he's not stupid. Not by a long shot.

So that means I have to out-think him.

Shouldn't be hard to accomplish, though: after all, I was sure making myself feel pretty damned fine while I was waiting to be inspired. I thought better when I was relaxed and unstressed, instead of pissed and hormonal. I was definitely on the way from the latter to the former thanks to my own magic fingers. _Hooray for me!_

And this to me explains why, in only 1.2 nano-seconds, I hit upon the perfect solution to get the Cuban Sex God running his fine hot ass into the shower determined to give me all 11 inches of what he had to offer...and more.

Oh, yeah, Stephanie Plum was one very smart woman!

And just as kinky as a certain pain in my ass Carlos 'Superman' Whatever-the-hell-his-last-name-is. Damn, come to think of it…what the hell _is_ his last name? I hadn't even bothered to ask him! Hadn't really mattered much to me. After all, this thing between us wasn't going to last more than this weekend. He probably wouldn't tell me anyway. But then, that was a challenge, wasn't it? Mr. 'I Don't Give Out Information'. And yet, somehow I'd gotten his first name Ricardo out of him, when he clearly hadn't wanted to tell me. Then I'd gotten his age and his birthday and how many siblings he had. I'd even gotten his father's and his brother's names.

So I knew damned well that I could get more information out of him the same way. And I would: I knew _when_, too. I was going to have him at my mercy very soon. When I finished that last fantasy I'd ended much too soon when neither he nor I could wait a second longer…..

But in the meantime, it was time for me to play hard-ball with the kinky bastard.

"Omigod!!! _RAOUL!!!!!_" I moaned loudly, giving it my best 'we're fucking right now and I can't help myself' inflection. "You're too much man for me, baby! All _15 _rock-hard inches of your hot sexy _Spanish _body!"

There was no chucking coming from the doorway now.

There was no sound at all, in fact.

Oh, yeah, we were on _serious_ countdown here.

_5..._

"Oh my God, _Raoul_, you have no idea what you do to me! You're the only man for me, _Raoul_!" I whimpered, working myself up into a real fine hormonal 'gotta have me some red-hot hunky man right now' mode.

_4..._

"You do things to me no other man ever can, _Raoul_! No matter how much I try to pretend otherwise, _Raoul_, you'll always be the only man I'll ever want." I was pumping those digits in and out so fast I was ready to cum any second now. It was definitely helping the husky timbre of my voice.

_3.._

"Every other man is just a poor substitute for you, _Raoul_!" I let loose with a mixture of throaty wails that would have done any porno-slut proud. And the best part was, I was _really _close to making myself a very happy woman in the bargain!

_2..._

"I close my eyes whenever I'm with all those nameless countless other men, and I can't help but picture _your_ perfect body tangled in the sheets with mine…naked…with your delicious huge cock buried deep inside of me…_Raoul_! Oh, _Raoul_!"

_1..._

"Give it to me, baby! Please! I need you so much! Gimme that huge _15_ inch rock-hard cock of yours, _Raoul_!! Chingame, _Raoul_! Chingame!"

The door to the shower practically flew off its hinges, and I was pushed roughly back against the wall of the shower by a very naked, very angry Carlos. Oh, yeah, he was more than jealous--he was dangerously on fire.

I'd never wanted him more.

I was so fucking turned on now I was ready to self-combust! And so was he. Of course our whole planned slow sensual lovemaking in the shower fantasy was now completely tossed out the window. Neither one of us was in the mood to do slow _anything_.

I'd been deliberately 'baiting the tiger' with my incessant 'Raoul' mentions. I knew it would piss Carlos off to hear another man's--albeit a fictitious man's--name on my lips when I was pleasuring myself. And I knew damned well he wasn't happy at all to hear me say that my made-up lover Raoul was substantially more well-endowed than _he_ was. No way in hell Superman didn't know the exact length--to the inch--of his prized XXXL equipment. _Nope, no way at all!_

Damn, am I truly _ingenious_, or what?

I sure thought so.

Like I said before: you do _not_ mess with Stephanie Plum when she is horny and looking to get herself some action!!

Good old Raoul was going to ensure me some white-hot 'I can fuck you better than Raoul any day of the week' attention from Mr. 'I'm Taking My Own Sweet Time To Climb In There With You'.

_Keep me waiting in the shower at your own peril, Superman!!_

Truth be told, I was actually kind of surprised Carlos had lasted all the way down to _1 _on the count-down: but then he did have tremendous discipline. And, prior to meeting me, I bet he always was able to control anything and everything around him--especially his own urges. But I'd managed to make him snap that self-control time and again tonight. With extremely pleasurable consequences for both of us. So somehow I didn't think he'd end up too upset at my 'improvements' to his little fantasy….

It was time to find out.

And find out I did, mere seconds afterwards….


	18. Chapter 18

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 18

_Carlos' POV_

I'd sent Stephanie into the shower ahead of me for more reasons than she knew. Sure, I'd told her it was to set the scene for my fantasy--and it was mainly for that reason. I planned to enjoy the sight of her naked, washing her beautiful curly chestnut-colored hair and lathering up her magnificent body, before I plunged the room into total darkness and stole into the shower to slowly and tantalizingly run my hands over her slippery wet skin as we bathed together in the seductive cover of darkness.

I had excellent night vision, but Stephanie would be totally disoriented once I surprised her by turning off the lights. Robbed of her sight, I knew that all her other senses would be heightened; I'd planned to silently made love to her like a ghost shadow as she all but swooned in my arms and begged for more. What can I say? I get freaky like that. And I love to hear her beg for me. The sounds she makes are enough to make me cum so powerfully that I lose all control. And I _never_ lose control…except with her.

But that wasn't my only purpose: in truth, I didn't trust her with that damned dessert cart one iota! My skin was sticky, I smelled like something that belonged on a bakery tray, and I wasn't taking any chances that she might start up with the dessert again once her next turn came to call the shots. I had almost gone out of my mind when she'd slathered that messy concoction all over me! I'd gotten damned good and lucky that she'd been too aroused to finish all she'd originally had planned for me. I was no fool: I wheeled that cart out into the hallway the very second she disappeared into the bathroom; and I'd called down to the front desk to request that someone pick it up ASAP.

I'd also had to do damage control on the God-awful disastrous state of the bed. There was no way in hell we could sleep on that messy syrup-covered gooey fabric again tonight--and I damned well wasn't up for calling for maid service at this unholy hour. If the hotel would even provide it, which I highly doubted. So instead I'd come up with my own ingenious solution, and set it into play with stunning efficiency. In minutes, I was more than ready to sweep Stephanie from the shower straight back to the bed for another horizontal round of pleasuring--after I'd had her vertically against the wall of the shower, that is.

God, I was totally and completely besotted with her, and I knew it. Hell, I'd blurted out three words I thought I'd never say to _anyone--_let alone a woman I'd just met a few short hours ago. _I love you. _And I did. Then she'd told me that she loved me, too. Even though I knew it couldn't change anything for us in the end, I'd _still _wanted to shout out loud, turn cart-wheels and grin ear-to-ear like a kid who'd gotten everything he'd ever wanted on his Christmas list. Then haul her indescribably gorgeous body back to bed and fuck the daylights out of her until the very last second I possibly could before I had to report for duty on Monday afternoon. Forget her friend's damned wedding. Forget my family get-together, and my meetings with my Army buddies and my attorney. I wanted every damned second I could get with Stephanie…and I wanted to spend each and every second of that time buried deep inside her.

She was like no other woman I'd ever imagined. The more I got to know her, the more deeply I fell in love with her. I'd already broken my own 'this is just a one night stand' rule. And I'd done it _knowingly--_not with some crazy spur of the moment blurt in the heat of passion: I'd asked her for Saturday night, and for all of Sunday with her. And I planned to beg for every moment I could get of Monday morning, as well. I was shamelessly addicted to her. I'd given her personal information about myself that no one else knew. For Chrissake, I'd even told her about losing my virginity at 14! Even my brother and my closest friends didn't know the details on that! No one did--no one but Stephanie.

Then, as if that wasn't enough, I'd proceeded to answer every single question she'd asked about myself and my family. I'd given information I'd never have considered for a moment divulging to any other woman I'd ever spent the night with--or ever would. I was just lucky she hadn't pressed for more details, or I'd have spilled every other damned thing about myself with equal abandon. I couldn't hold back with Stephanie--about _anything_, it seemed!

Where the hell had I gotten the insane idea to write down my kinky fantasies and share them with a complete stranger? I'd never done that with any other woman I'd had a casual fling with! Christ, I'd eagerly agreed to do things with her that I'd never have done with anyone else. Not ever. Getting my ass whipped with my own belt? Ripping my shirt into strips so she could tie me to the bed? Having a ton of sticky gooey dessert smeared all over me, and going slowly out of my mind while she licked them off me? Holy God in Heaven, I'd thought I would die when her sweet mouth had taken my cock so deeply inside and begun devouring that cream off it--sucking me so enthusiastically that I was getting hard now just _thinking_ about it!

She'd done things to my body that I would never have dreamed possible: I'd almost passed out in the alcove after fucking her so fiercely. Instead of being embarrassed by the possibility of public discovery, she'd instead whooped with unconcealed enthusiasm and suggested we go down to the hotel lobby for round two! I knew damned well she'd have done it, too, if I'd taken her up on the suggestion. Hell, before tonight was through, maybe I _would_!

And her scary sex-crazed friends. God, what a nightmare that had been! She'd faced them all down, though: instead of slinking red-faced with mortification back to her room, she'd stood her ground fearlessly and openly admitted what we were planning on doing all night. I heard her voice echoing in my head: _"He's hot; he's more than spectacular in bed--or out of it--and he's all mine for the rest of the night. We're going back inside now. Ignore the screaming. Turn your porn up loud and forget what Carlos the No-Limp-Noodle Hunk and I are up to inside. Because trust me, I plan to do a lot more screaming before the night is through. So will he." _And we had. Both of us.

Son of a bitch, the woman had actually worn me--_Superman_--out in the sack! No other woman had _ever _done that. Damn! My sexual stamina was legendary among my circle of Army buddies. On one night I'd taken on 9 women one after another in a whorehouse in Thailand and left them all completely exhausted--and still been able to zip up my pants and head out without napping. But none of those 9 had been Stephanie: she was one in a billion.

And she was, for all her blazing heat and wildcat intensity in the bedroom, still the sweetest cutest most irresistibly adorable woman I'd ever met. She actually _blushed_! And frequently. She consistently blurted out things that made me want to laugh out loud, and then wide-eyed she'd say something like 'Crap, did I just say that? My bad!' And proceed to uninhibitedly confess still more of her totally unique perspectives on the world. Whoo-jah to a _shark_, for Chrissakes! _Whoo-jah??_

I grinned, shaking my head in amazement, and headed to the bathroom with the condom clutched in my hand. I knew that one minute of watching her lathering up would get me so hard I could slip it on; then I'd hit the lights and slide stealthily into the shower to begin yet another round of steamy red-hot sex with my delectable woman. And she was _my _woman. Would always be my woman, even after Monday had come and gone and we'd both moved on with our separate lives. I would treasure these memories forever, and turn her loose to enjoy her life knowing that I would always have a special place in her heart. It would be enough. Hell, it _had _to be.

I leaned against the door frame, greedily drinking in the sight of her wet body clothed only in glistening bubbles as she put on a show that more than fulfilled every fantasy I'd ever had of what a woman could be. She was enough to turn me rock-hard in 30 seconds flat, and it was taking every bit of self-control I could summon not to hit the light switch and dive straight into what I knew would be warm welcoming arms. And then into a hot tight pussy that would take me to Heaven for as long as I could hold out without shattering inside her. Not long, probably, if that twitching I felt down between my legs was any indication….

But for now I was memorizing her exquisitely perfect body, emblazing its memory across my mind so that I could remember every single detail of this moment for the rest of my life. I grinned as she impatiently demanded my appearance. I bit down on my lip, trying to contain my chuckle. She was so predictable. Or so I thought.

Moments later she began to really ratchet up her captivating performance, knowing she'd be driving me completely insane in the process. Her hands slid over her soap-covered body with a natural sensuality that other women far more experienced sexually could only dream of one day achieving. Her voluptuous body undulated sinfully as she sent her wicked fingers places that I well knew were hot and tight and deliciously responsive to the touch. My enormous cock sprung to attention, a divining-rod, pulling me toward the source of what I needed most in this world.

Then my jaw hit the floor and I swear my panting tongue followed it almost instantly. I suspect that pool of drool that Stephanie so often sported when looking at my manhood was even now forming at the corner of my own open mouth as I watched the embodiment of every XXXX-rated fantasy I'd ever had come to life in front of my incredulous and utterly delighted eyes.

Christ, she was absolutely _mesmerizing_! Making inhuman noises--a mix of whimpers, wails and moans--that had my poor body so aroused I was ready to spontaneously combust. She was ready to cum any second, I knew that for damned certain. I wanted to see it, to hear it, to add the memory to my collection of all things Stephanie. So that I could know _exactly_ what she looked like when she used that shower massager she'd told me about. The one she'd use nightly from now on picturing _me_ entering her…calling _my_ name…begging for _me_ to pleasure her as no man ever had before or ever would.

I heard her throaty purr and swallowed thickly, hearing her entreaties; knowing my name was going to be on her lips momentarily. I couldn't wait!

"_Omigod!!! RAOUL!!!!!_"

_RAOUL! _Who the fuck was _Raoul_? And what the hell was the bastard doing in _my_ fantasy? With _my_ woman?

"_You're too much man for me, baby! All 15 rock-hard inches of your hot sexy Spanish body!"_

15 rock-hard inches? _15 _inches?? _15?? _His hot sexy _Spanish_ body? No. No, no, no! She did not just say that. She _didn't_….

"_You do things to me no other man ever can, Raoul! No matter how much I try to pretend otherwise, Raoul, you'll always be the only man I'll ever want." _

Son of a fucking bitch! What kind of bullshit was this? My blood pressure soared rapidly as I listened to her wailing out the praises of this piece of shit Spanish bastard I now hated with a burning passion like I'd never known.

"_Every other man is just a poor substitute for you, Raoul!" _

'Poor substitute'? The hell I was! I was the best she'd ever had. She'd told me that. She'd told me that more than once! Hadn't she?? My head was throbbing. This was a nightmare the likes of which I'd never experienced before in my life.

And still it continued…worsening every moment.

"_I close my eyes whenever I'm with all those nameless countless other men, and I can't help but picture your perfect body tangled in the sheets with mine…naked…with your delicious huge cock buried deep inside of me…Raoul! Oh, Raoul!"_

I was going to kill this fucker Raoul, and I was going to do it slowly and painfully. Then I was going to cut off his fucking 15 inch rock-hard cock and shove it down his God-damned hot sexy Spanish mouth. Fuck with _my_ woman, huh? I'd teach him a lesson he'd never forget, that's for damned sure.

"_Give it to me, baby! Please! I need you so much!"_

Wait a minute! Wait a minute! Calm down, Manoso! She's yanking your chain. She knows you're listening to this. She knows damned well what she's doing to you.

"_Gimme that huge 15 inch rock-hard cock of yours, Raoul!!"_

Damn it to living hell, she was deliberately waving the red flag in front of this bull; tormenting me, sending me around the bend, lost to all reason. Once again snapping my self-control and arousing my primitive instincts as no other woman ever could. Take a deep breath, Superman. Don't be stupid! There is no Raoul.

"_Chingame, Raoul! Chingame!" (Fuck me, Raoul! Fuck me!)_

Fuck not being stupid! My woman is screaming out some other man's name with her fingers deep in her pussy! I don't give a rat's ass if the guy is real or made up. I don't care if he's 400 lbs and gay or 105 years old and a shriveled bag of bones. His name doesn't belong on _my_ woman's lips, in that tone of voice, with her pussy juices running over her fingers like Niagara Falls! This bullshit stops NOW!

I all but ripped the shower door off its hinges and launched myself towards Stephanie, who was so close to cuming she was taken by complete surprise. Well, at least that last part of my fantasy had worked out as planned, even though I had been too incensed to remember to hit the lights. I was just lucky I hadn't put my fist through the God-damned glass shower door!

"Carlos!" She froze, her fingers still locked in place between her legs. Her enormously expressive blue eyes flashed a quick succession of emotions: shock at being caught unaware, satisfaction at the success of her plan, arousal from the work of her own fingers, undisguised lust for me, and eager anticipation at what she knew would happen between us momentarily. What I didn't see--amazingly--was even one tiny flicker of fear. Not even a hint of it.

And believe me I was one mother fucking scary bastard. I had a well-earned reputation as a bad ass the likes of which Delta Force had never seen. I could make grown men--killers like myself--literally piss their pants like terrified toddlers when I put my mind to it. Yet this little Jersey girl had baited me deliberately, snapped my self-control, and now stood here eye to eye with me, unafraid, when any other woman would have run screaming in the other direction. And most men, as well. Was it really any wonder why I was in so deeply love with her?

Dropping the still-wrapped condom on the shower ledge, I roughly pushed both of her hands behind her and held them tightly, my breath coming in ragged spurts as I fought to contain my temper. My cock was at full attention, pressing threateningly against her abdomen, and I saw her sparkling eyes darken to a midnight blue as they flashed down to take its measure. A soft moan escaped her lips, and her pink tongue peeked out to moisten her lips in obvious excitement.

"That wasn't a very smart thing to do, Babe." My voice was raspy.

"It worked, didn't it?" She leaned in to me, unapologetically.

"Depends what you were trying to accomplish."

"You know very well what I was trying to accomplish, Carlos."

"Do I? Looks to me like you're playing a sick little game with me, Babe."

"And you weren't doing the same thing? Standing there, watching me play with myself, knowing full well I was desperate to have you inside of me?"

"I thought you wanted your good buddy _Raoul _with his fucking 15 inch cock." I said the name with contempt, spitting it out harshly, waiting for even one bit of self-doubt about the wisdom of this insane scheme of hers to creep into her eyes. How could she be so damned certain that I wouldn't take my anger out on her?

"Because I trust you," she said quietly, her eyes locked with mine, her body compliant in my arms.

What the fuck? Had _I _spoken out loud too?

"No, I just know exactly what you're thinking."

"You couldn't possibly, or you wouldn't be standing here in front of me expecting this to go down at all well for you."

"You're jealous."

"Fucking A."

"I'm glad."

"It means nothing."

"It means everything."

"It won't change anything."

"You're a damned liar."

"I didn't lie to you, Babe. I told you going into this that it was just a one night stand. No future in it."

"No, Carlos. You didn't lie to me. You did much worse than that: you lied to _yourself_. You're still lying--and we both know it."

"Bullshit!"

"You've been telling yourself that we could have a quick little fling--fuck each other senseless this weekend. And then you could walk away and never look back. Give me up to another man without thinking twice about it. Without caring at all. That you wouldn't want to die just thinking of me wrapped in another man's arms, with his cock buried as deep inside me as yours has been. Thinking of me calling his name the same way I've called yours tonight. Wanting him then the way I want you now---"

"Shut up! God damn it, _shut up_!" I yelled. But I couldn't look away from her eyes. I couldn't take my hands off her wrists or push her body away from mine.

"You love me, Carlos. And you want me more than just for tonight. More than just for the weekend."

Damn it all! How the hell could she read me so well?! I knew damned well it was the truth. _Of course it was. _That's exactly why I'd snapped at the thought of Raoul. That's the real reason the pain in my gut was so searing that I wanted to put my fist through the glass door.

Not that I believed for a second that there was a Raoul in her life. _Yet. _But there could be. Probably _would_ be. One day. When I was gone and she was over her divorce and ready to commit to a man again. But it wouldn't be me. Couldn't be me.

And no matter what bullshit I'd tried desperately to sell myself, I knew damned well it _did _matter to me. More than anything ever had. If I wasn't dead by then thanks to the damned Iraqis, then I'd be dead every minute of every day that I woke up without her and wondered if she'd found herself another man to take my place in her bed. In her life. If he'd made her feel what I'd made her feel tonight. If he'd made her feel _more_…

"Fuck," I muttered unsteadily, my voice raspy as I choked back unshed tears. I closed my eyes, unwilling to let her see how much raw pain her words had caused me. As if I could block the truth from my mind just by hiding it from her unwavering eyes.

I released her hands and stepped back, honestly unsure what the hell I was going to do next. I actually had some bizarre urge to grab my jeans and run like all the hounds of hell were chasing me. Because I knew that if I stayed I would admit to everything she'd accused me of--and I'd still have no choice but to leave her anyway.

I shut the faucet off, more for something to do with my hands than for any other reason.

"Talk to me," she urged, reaching out her hands, wrapping them around my waist to hold me in place.

Christ! She realized I was thinking of bolting, just like she'd known what was really on my mind. In my heart. Just like she knew me down to my very soul. _How the hell could this woman know me so damned well?_

"Because I love you," she whispered.

I guess I'd asked the question out loud, but I wasn't really sure. Not that it really mattered, anyway, come to think of it.

"I love you, too. I always will. Always, Babe," I admitted softly, "but I still can't be with you after Monday."

"Why not? I don't understand, Carlos, I don't---"

"I'm going to war, Babe. I told you that before. I can't--"

"I'll wait for you. I can wait; I want to."

"I can't ask you to---"

"You're not _asking _me to. Don't you understand? There's a difference. I'm _offering_ to wait because I love you and you're the only man I ever want to be with. I've never loved anyone the way I love you, Carlos. I don't think I've ever really loved anyone at all before you."

"Nor I before you," I sighed, "Babe, none of that really matters. Let it go. _Please_."

"I can't do that. Love is worth fighting for. _We're _worth fighting for. You want me and I want you. You love me and I love you. We found each other, and we can hold on. We _need_ to hold on---"

"I'm not coming back, Babe."

"You'll change your mind. You'll miss me," she insisted, "You may think you won't, but I know that you _will_---"

"I'm not coming back. End of story."

"We can be happy. We don't have to get married. We don't have to have the kind of normal life that other people do. Be what other people expect us to be. I don't expect that of you, Carlos, I really don't. We're Superman and Wonder Woman, right? We don't do normal. And I'm not trying to tie you down, I just want for us to---"

"Damn it, Babe! I'm not coming back _because I'm going to die over there_!" I yelled it, watching her shattered face slowly process what I'd really meant by my words.

"That's not true." She shook her head firmly. "I don't believe it. Not for a minute."

"It's a _fact_, Babe. All but certain. 90% certain. Lousy odds to base a future on."

"But you don't know that. That's just some worst case scenario that won't really happen, it's just something that they chart out to make you be careful and take it seriously---"

"Listen to yourself," I hissed, "Do you know how _ridiculous _you sound? _Take it seriously? _Christ, Stephanie: it's _war_. Life or death. Kill or be killed. It's not an attempt to scare the poor little soldiers into loading their rifles or looking both ways when they step out of their vehicles and make a run for it amidst sniper fire. Or try to avoid suicide bombers who are barely old enough to shave---"

"NO!! You're not going to die," she repeated, her eyes slowly registering the futility of arguing with me.

"I'm very likely going to die," I said quietly. "And I'll be damned if I leave you here alone waiting for me to come back, putting your life on hold and hoping that for some insane reason, there's a miracle with my name on it. I won't do that to you. I _can't_, Babe. Don't ask me to."

"It isn't fair." That was all she could manage in reply, and it actually made me smile. She sounded like a petulant schoolgirl who'd lost a favorite toy to a stern parent.

"Them's the breaks, kid," I tried to carelessly shrug it off, giving her a wink and a chuck under the chin. "You win some, you lose some. Accept it. I have. And move on."

"But you're giving up already," she whispered. "Don't you realize that? You're not even holding out any hope at all that you'll be one of the lucky 10% who survive."

"They aren't the lucky ones, Babe," I told her, "War is hell. It destroys you, from the inside out. The lucky ones die before they get to the point where they have to look at themselves in the mirror and see the monsters that they've become. Before they close their eyes every night and see all of the faces of the men they've killed for no reason other than that they were told to."

"Exactly: _told to do it_. Told to follow orders, Carlos. Soldiers follow _orders_. Don't you dare--don't you even _dare_--call yourself a monster for doing your job, and doing it well enough that you stayed alive! For taking a life of someone who would very happily have taken yours or someone else's if you'd only given them the opportunity. I knew two very very special women who died on 9-11 when United Flight 175 crashed into the south tower of the World Trade Center. They didn't deserve to die, but they did because some fucking monsters with no soul--no soul at all--put them in the middle of a war they had no idea they were in. And you know what? If I'd found the bastards who did it, _I'd _have killed them myself. With no remorse at all. And I'm not a monster. Neither are you. You're doing your job; and by doing that job you're making it safer for me and for everyone who matters to me to have a life worth living. So excuse me for not buying into your whole 'I'm not worthy of being happy' act. And for telling you that you _deserve_ to have more than you ever possibly imagine."

"Babe." I stood stunned at her passion and her ferocity. Once again, I'd completely underestimated who Stephanie was. And now I was even deeper in love with her. And God help me, I _still_--for the life of me--couldn't see a way for us to be together.

"You know what? I think you're afraid to be happy, Carlos. That's what I think it is. You're afraid to take a chance and let your guard down. To let yourself be happy and take what life is offering you. And that's sad. But that doesn't matter. Because I love you anyway. And whether you want me to wait for you or you don't, that really doesn't matter either. Because it's not _your_ choice to make. It's _mine_. I love you. I always will. I'm not ashamed to admit it or afraid to feel it or to risk it or to lose it if, God forbid, something does happen and you don't come back to me. But you know what? You _will_ come back from wherever your tour of duty is. Whatever it is. However long it lasts. It just remains to be seen if you'll come back _alive--_or if you'll just be a walking shell of a man who goes through the motions of living without really feeling anything because it hurts too much to take the chance."

"Christ, you play dirty, Babe," I felt that punch deep down to my gut.

"I'm not sorry for saying it, either."

"I know you're not."

"Did it work?"

"_Babe. _I've felt more in these few hours with you than I've felt in my entire life. And I'm not talking about the great sex. I've been happier than I've ever thought possible. Deserved or not--and I really don't want to argue about that anymore."

"I don't want to argue either, Carlos. I just want us to love each other. For however long we can."

"I _do_ love you, Babe. I always will. No matter what happens to me or when or where or how. I don't have a choice about how I feel about you. It just is. I didn't expect it. I didn't want it. I didn't plan it. It isn't smart or convenient. But it's stronger than anything I've ever felt in my life. And you're right: it makes me sick to think of any other man with you. Inside you. Giving you a life and a future I can't. Making you happy, giving you kids one day, climbing into bed with you every night and making love to you all night long. Waking up to you every morning and being thankful to be alive and hopefully knowing what a lucky bastard he is for having the chance. Growing old with you and remembering every single minute---"

"Don't you _get_ this, Carlos? No one else is going to do any of that. No one can but _you_. Because _you're _the only one I want. The only man who can make me feel things so deep inside of me that I can't even tell the difference between where I start and you begin. That's what I feel for you. And I'm not stupid. I know that it's going to be hell for both of us--for _both _of us--being apart. But it's worse, much worse, to know that you're walking away from us already giving up. Planning on dying. Because you _are_. I can see it. I can feel it."

"I'm being realistic, Babe."

"What's wrong with being _hopeful_?"

"Don't have too much experience with that kind of thing. It doesn't keep you alive. I live in the real world, not some happily ever after little fairy tale."

"Yeah, I get that. I do. But can you explain to me how going into battle already admitting defeat is good military strategy? How that keeps you alive? Because I think you're full of shit."

"You're probably right."

"And for the record: there's nothing wrong with expecting a happily ever after. Beats the hell out of the alternative."

"No argument there."

"I don't want to fight anymore."

"Me either, Babe."

"Are you running out the door now?"

"No. Wasn't planning on it. Not anymore."

"Good. Were you planning on fucking me?"

"I was…but I changed my mind." There was a long pause, and I saw the pain in her eyes. "I figured I'd much rather make love to you instead."

"Oh."

"That's all you can manage? _Oh?_"

"I thought you meant---"

"I know what you thought, Babe. This time you were wrong."

"_This time?_"

"I'm not committing to anything. I'm just willing to re-examine my previous position, on the off-chance that it isn't the wisest military strategy."

"Being realistic."

"Yeah. That's me. Realistic to the core."

"And yet you almost got your eyes poked out trying to turn me into Sleeping Beauty."

"Shows the wisdom--or the lack of it--trying to live life like it's a fairy tale."

"Why can't we find the middle ground, Carlos?"

"Is there one, Babe? Really?"

"Seems like there should be. Could be. If we wanted to look hard enough for it."

"I guess." I leaned in and kissed her gently, wanting to take her pain away. Wanting to finally let go of my own. Wanting with everything inside of me for things to be different than my gut feared they would be. "I don't know, Steph. I don't know anything anymore except that I love you more than I've ever loved anyone or anything in this world."

"And I love you the same way, Carlos. So can we find the balance between keeping it real and keeping it hopeful? Can we at least agree to try?"

"Whatever you want, Babe. Anything you want, for as long as you want it."

"I want you. Forever."

"I'm yours, for at least that. And beyond."

"Make love to me. And don't ever treat me like I'm some little porcelain doll who's going to break if you hold on too tightly. I'm stronger than you know, Carlos. I have enough faith to hold us both up if I have to. I'm Wonder Woman, remember?"

I looked deeply into her eyes, finally dropping my protective walls completely. Trusting her as she had trusted me. Our eyes said everything that needed to be said. I wasn't Superman right now: I was just Carlos. And I was scared, and I was hurting and I wanted so badly to believe that I could have the life with her I wanted more than anything. To feel I was deserving of a woman I loved with every ounce of my heart and soul. That we'd be like this forever.

I pulled her into my arms, and kissed her with every ounce of passion I had in me, and she met it with an equal ferocity. I turned the faucet on, standing under the warm water as Stephanie picked up the shower gel and used her strong loving hands to make me clean again. I was ready for her then; in seconds I'd slid the condom on, and I lifted her leg guiding it around my waist as she wrapped her arms around my neck and we became one.

It wasn't sex. Not even close. It wasn't a sensual game as I'd planned in my fantasy; neither was it an angry and punishing act as I'd almost allowed it to become in my jealous rage. It was like nothing on this earth I'd ever felt before. It was pure and loving, tender and healing to body and soul.

I'd expected that darkness would heighten her other senses; thought that by taking her in silence she'd be so overcome with passion that she'd be swooning for me, begging me to make her mine. What a colossal ass I could be!

If I'd followed through with my original plan, I'd never have been able to see the love that shone like a beacon in her soulful blue eyes, leading me to a safe harbor that I'd longed to find my entire life.

If I'd never opened my mouth, this exceptional woman would never have heard all that I'd kept locked so deep inside myself for so many long years of solitude. Would never have been able to reach into my soul and offer hope where there had been fear, and redemption where there had been only guilt.

By the time we were ready to reach our mutual release, the one who was begging to be taken…was _me_. And I was: I was taken _home_. By the woman who was the other half of myself.

So much for being aware of your surroundings.


	19. Chapter 19

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 19

"You can do this, Stevie," I murmured encouragement to myself as I tried desperately to tame the out-of-control hair beast. I checked the mirror again, hoping for a miracle. Holy Moly Macarolli, I looked like I'd stuck my finger into a light socket! My hair was not just scary, it was beyond frightening: shooting out in every direction like Medusa's mythical snakes. "Why _me_?" Then I realized how much I sounded like my mother and groaned tragically.

"Having big problems in here, Babe?"

I looked up and saw Carlos leaning casually against the frame of the bathroom door, watching me in amusement.

"You really have to ask me that? What does it _look_ like?" I tossed the can of spray mousse down in disgust and pulled out the heavy artillery: the extra-hold hairspray. "It's you or me, hair," I muttered, "And one of us is going down _now_!!" I aimed and fired.

"You talk to your hair?" He sounded vastly amused. "Get any answers, Babe?"

"Hardy har har har," I snorted derisively, ignoring him to hurl insults at my huge stash of expensive and utterly useless hair products which now littered the counter of the bathroom. "Fucking shit ass over-priced waste of time and money crapola! Step up to the plate, why don't you? I can't do this alone! Where are you when I _need_ you? MIA, that's what. If I look like this in all those wedding photos--in addition to having bowling ball sized black bags under my eyes--I'm going to _scream_!"

"You look great, Babe," Carlos assured me calmly.

"Sure I do, Superman: everyone wants hair that looks like a Halloween nightmare. God, you must need to get laid again really bad," I snarked.

"Not as badly as you do, apparently: too much stress going on there, Babe. Not good for you."

"I hate my hair."

"I don't. You look sexy as hell, Babe," he growled, "All those crazy curls just remind me how out of control you are in bed: hot and utterly insatiable, naked and thoroughly enticing. How dark your gorgeous blue eyes get when I'm about to plunge inside you and fill that tight wet little pussy of yours up completely. Those soft little whimpers you make when I pump in and out and you're just ready to explode around my cock. You're the living embodiment of every wet dream I've ever had, Babe. Seeing just how crazy those curls of yours look right now only makes me want to drag you back to bed and work on getting you even crazier."

_Gulp._

If I'd been wearing any, I'd have ruined another pair of panties just listening to him. His words had been arousing enough--especially because I could picture him doing everything he'd just suggested--but what made it even more titillating was his low throaty voice. He sounded like pure liquid sex, and that had my doodah more than ready to be pumped into right here, right now.

Plus he was wearing that white towel slung low on his sinfully exquisite hips, and the happy trail leading down to the Wizard's magic wand I so vividly remembered from earlier in our fuck fest was clearly on display.

I'd lost all interest in my damned hair by now.

He glided sensuously behind me, and I watched in the mirror as his hands on my waist crept every so slowly over to the sash that loosely held my thigh-high satin robe closed. Wordlessly, I leaned back onto his muscular chest and surrendered as his hands slipped open the knot and parted my robe to reveal my already-erect nipples. His hands took possession of my breasts, kneading them expertly as I softly moaned in delight.

"Look at yourself, Stephanie. See what I see each time I look at you. Can't you see how beautiful you are?" he whispered, his breath hot against my ear.

"You are," I murmured, "Oh my God, what you do to me, Carlos!"

I couldn't move, couldn't take my eyes off the stunningly erotic tableau we made together in the mirror, my soft white skin cloaked by his hard mocha-latte muscles. It was mesmerizing.

His thumbs flicked over my nipples teasingly, then he took the buds into his fingers and rolled them, tormenting me even further and sending flames shooting through my veins. I could feel the intense heat building between my legs, my juices beginning to slowly trickle down my thighs.

"You're wet for me already, aren't you?" he bit my earlobe, his voice husky.

"I'm always wet for you," I confessed. "I always will be. I can't help it."

His hard length pressed against my ass, and I shivered in excitement as his hands slithered lower, skimming my tummy on their way to the Promised Land. I couldn't wait! I wanted his fingers inside me, then I wanted his cock. And I wanted them badly.

"I know you can't help it, Babe. Just like I can't help what you do to me. Tell me what you want."

"You know what I want. You always know exactly what I want," I groaned, helplessly. I was having major difficulty staying upright, my legs had turned to rubber as his fingers traced circles over my inner thighs and his thumbs played games with my slit. "Exactly what I need. _Now_…."

"Not just yet," he murmured, "I'm enjoying this too much."

"I'm not," I protested.

"Liar."

"I need more than that."

"You'll get more, Babe," he said, amusement mixed with arousal. "Much more. I have something very special planned for you in just a bit."

"Give it to me _now_," I demanded. "Carlos, I don't want to wait." I grasped his wrists, trying to move his hands to where I needed them the most. But instead of allowing me--as he had before when he'd given me my first orgasm moments after we'd entered the room--he pulled back and stepped away.

I turned to look at him, pure shock and total dismay on my face. "Why the hell are you _stopping_? Carlos!!"

"Not yet, Babe. I told you: you have to wait a bit longer."

The hell I did! I required _immediate_ gratification after what those magic fingers had been doing to me for the last few minutes!

"Carlos…" I moved toward him.

He stepped away. "It's not time yet, Babe."

I snapped.

"_Fuck _waiting! Fuck this whole 'it's not time yet' shit! Hell, fuck _me_!" I yelled. I was royally pissed by now: _I need that damned orgasm!_

Bastard grinned at me: he was enjoying my desperation immensely. "I plan to, Babe. Over and over again. But not right now. I have something else in mind for you first."

"There's a name for men like you," I sputtered, trying to come up with it. A woman was called a cock-teaser. What the hell did you call a man who promised what he wouldn't deliver? "You're a--you're a--"

"What am I, Babe? Come on, tell me," he challenged.

"A fucking _pussy-teaser_." That was the best I could come up with, and I tried to infuse as much disdain as I could into the term. "You deliberately got me all hot and bothered and thinking I was going to get my orgasm--"

"You _are_! I told you I'd---"

"Screw you, Buster!" I spit out haughtily, "I don't even _want_ it now! You can _keep_ it. So there! What do you think of _that_?"

_Bastard._ I'd show him!

"What do I think? I think you're the most impatient woman I've ever met, Babe. Haven't you ever heard of foreplay?"

"I don't want _foreplay_, damn it. I want _play-play_." I said angrily. "You touch me like that and you get me all crazy--and then you pull away and I go out of my mind. It's not fair."

"I want you just as much if not more than you want me, Babe," he promised me, "Just trust me, okay?"

"I do trust you," I protested. "That has nothing to do with--"

"I mean, trust me with _this_, Steph. I want to do this for you."

"_What_? Do _what_ for me? Drive me completely and totally out of my mind with sexual frustration? Gee, thanks a lot, Superman! However can I thank you?" I said sarcastically, giving him my best Burg girl death glare.

He laughed, "Well, that certainly wasn't my intention, Babe."

I folded my arms and continued the Burg girl death glare at full power. I was pissed and I wanted him to know it.

"Steph?"

Dead silence from yours truly.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" He said finally, arching his brow quizzically.

"What's there _to_ say?" I huffed, trying to raise my brow in return. From the way his lips twitched, it was obvious I failed miserably to register my extreme displeasure at his high-handed conduct.

"You aren't even going to ask what I was planning on doing for you?"

"Why would I care in the least about _that_? When it was very obvious what you _weren't _planning on doing…" I was still pouting.

"_Babe_." Now he was openly laughing at me. Great: I was _entertaining_ the pussy-teasing bastard.

I ignored him openly, going back to my collection of hair styling products--which seemed somehow to have procreated while my back was turned and now required immediate attention lest they multiply further and populate the entire bathroom. I started shoving them into drawers, annoyed just looking at the damned useless things.

"Stephanie?"

I didn't look up, taking every opportunity to slam the drawers to relieve at least part of my annoyance.

"Are we really having an argument over this?" He sounded confused now.

"Why would you even care? Go find someone else to amuse you. I'm tired of being entertainment."

OK, so I was in rampant bitch mode suddenly. PMSing, I guess. And still on a roller coaster of emotions I'd felt since Carlos had kept me waiting in the shower. I'd expected him to join me momentarily after I did a few provocative poses, and I'd been awaiting more deliciously pleasurable sex. And I'd waited. And waited. Then I'd realized he was standing there watching me put on a show, playing with myself for his enjoyment. So I'd created 'Raoul'--never anticipating the upheaval my imaginary Spanish lover would cause.

Sure, I'd expected Carlos would be jealous. He was Cuban, hot-blooded, passionate: no matter how cool he appeared on the surface, by now I knew damned well he was a volcano ready to erupt. I'd baited him deliberately to get him into the shower for molten hot sex. His jealous rage hadn't frightened me: I knew he wouldn't hurt me. I don't know how I knew; but I had.

I'd been ready for balls-to-the-wall primitive hot 'fuck me where I stand' sex, caveman-style: in fact, it was one of my still-to-be-drawn fantasies. Even though there was no way he could believe there was a _real _Raoul, I'd been anticipating that he would try to out-do my imaginary lover: I could tell he was super-competitive. So I was planning on accruing the benefits of that, courtesy of my little addition to the fantasy. I was _entitled_, I thought: I'd given a damned good porn show, after all!

It had started off much that way: he'd pushed my hands behind my back and I'd waited any second to be shoved to the wall and fucked senseless. The verbal fireworks had been expected, too: that would only add to the heat of the sex. Until I pushed one step too far: my sudden realization that the intensity of his jealousy belied his intention to walk away come Monday and never look back had prompted me to call him on it, and offer the promise of an eventual future together. I was willing to wait however long it took for him to return from his tour of duty. He was everything I'd ever wanted in a man; he was well worth any sacrifice I'd have to make. And I knew damned well he loved me too. So I'd challenged him, and I'd pushed it when he'd tried to deny his feelings.

I'd been predicting resistance, of course: but the argument I'd expected from him was that it wasn't fair of him to ask me to wait. I had a response to that one: he wasn't asking, I was offering. And I wasn't seeking a firm commitment from him now for a future together--just an admission that he wanted to pursue the possibility of one when he returned from wherever the hell the Army was sending him. Whenever the hell he would be back. I wasn't asking for anything I thought he really didn't want to give me, deep in his heart.

What I _hadn't_ anticipated--how could I?--was his stunning admission that he wouldn't hold out any hope at all for us because he was confident that he would die at war! And that 90% probability statistic he'd quoted had rocked me to the core. _90%! _Only one in ten was predicted to return alive? Not even _wounded_, mind you. But nine out of ten were expected to _die _in battle? Dear God in Heaven, I'd been so shaken all I could do in response was to deny even the possibility that Carlos would be among the fatalities. I knew damned well I sounded insane with my 'they just want you to take it seriously' babblings. But the alternative, I just couldn't process. He wouldn't--couldn't--die. Not Carlos!

I'd fought as best I could to reason with him. To reach him, _somehow_. To get him to recognize that there was an enormous difference between being realistic and being fatalistic. To hold out some hope for success; not to give up before he'd even stepped foot on enemy territory. That defeatist attitude, I knew, was almost certain to get him killed.

Yet I knew very well that he knew far more than he was saying about the odds. Carlos was a smart man, and I had no doubt at all that he was an excellent soldier. Highly capable, skilled beyond most. I recalled his comment earlier about not being in the position of having a regulation haircut and wearing a uniform--as well as his uncharacteristic nervousness when I'd called him on it. So he clearly wasn't regular Army. My bet was Special Forces…maybe even Delta Force?

My friend Melinda's Uncle John had been Delta Force many years ago. I'd met him a few times over the years I'd known her. He was a quiet man, remote, a loner. Silver-haired, muscular, with a slight limp and steely blue eyes that took in everything around him while revealing nothing of himself. I'd never seen him smile once. Intimidating as hell. But he was one of the good guys: a genuine hero, Melinda had confided. With a whole collection of medals he'd never discussed winning with anyone--even family.

Yes, the more I thought about it, the more I was willing to bet that Carlos was indeed Delta Force. Their odds would be 90%; and he'd be a leader in the Ops. Probably taking on the most dangerous part of the mission himself--by choice. That was Carlos, all right: 'Superman', he'd said his buddies called him. It all fit perfectly.

I'd listened to Carlos' earth-shattering revelation, reeling from all of it, fighting to keep hope alive for both of our sakes. Then he'd snapped, and I'd heard something I was willing to bet no one had ever heard from him before: the admission of his deep feelings of guilt and unworthiness. Those demons that haunted his soul, tormented him and kept him from believing he had any right to a happy life. I'd looked deep into his chocolaty eyes and seen such pain there that it made me physically ache for him.

It had angered me, frustrated me, made me want to shake some sense into him--while at the same time I wanted to hold him and love him and never let go. I'd remembered two childhood friends who'd been murdered on 9-11, and I'd let rip with a torrent of words from the heart. And I'd seen in his eyes that I'd finally reached him. Somehow, incredibly, I'd managed to reach deep down there into his soul and frighten away the demons--at least for tonight. I was more than willing to take the bastards on the _next_ time they descended upon him, too! The very thought that a man as decent and honorable and brave as Carlos would have any doubt at all of his humanity…I had no words for it. None at all.

But I knew that I loved him even more _because_ of that. And I knew--I knew with absolute certainty--that he _needed_ my love more than he could possibly imagine. I felt one with his soul in that moment: a closer deeper connection with him than anything I'd ever believed was attainable outside of the pages of romantic fiction. I wasn't giving up on him, on us. I couldn't allow myself to be pushed away.

I saw in his eyes the very moment he realized it. And I watched him drop the last of those protective walls he'd so carefully constructed around himself. I had his body. I had his heart. Now he was sharing his soul with me. There was no greater gift he could have given me. We kissed with a searing blazing passion that eclipsed anything we'd ever shared before. That there even _was_ a higher intensity possible than we'd already reached with our all-consuming lust, was the most incredible revelation. I knew without any reservation that this man completed me; and I him. I'd never believed in soul-mates before. But I did now, because I'd found mine. And I damned sure wasn't letting him walk out of my life without putting up one hell of a fight.

When we'd made love moments later, it had been so tender that I almost wept from the sheer beauty of the act. It was not merely a joining of two bodies who yearned for each other and sought physical and emotional release. It was a re-uniting of one soul that had been--somehow, somewhere along the way--rent in two. By some incredible miracle of Fate we'd been in the same place at the same time, and recognized each other. And we'd finally come together again, at long last.

Vaguely, I recalled a concept I'd never understood before when I'd suffered through a God-awful seemingly never-ending semester of Physics with (I think) 110 year old Professor Linus McQue. _Emergence_, he called it. 'The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.' I'd hated physics with a passion that knew no bounds. I'd damned near flunked; and frankly I hadn't ever foreseen any scenario in which I'd ever have a need for it in future. But I rolled my eyes now and wondered if somewhere, somehow, the Gods of Physics were laughing at the supreme irony of it all.

_DUH_, now Stephanie Plum _finally _gets it.

_Well, better late than never, right? _

"Stephanie! Stephanie!"

The voice grew louder, more urgent, finally shaking me out of my profound thoughts. I blinked, then turned to see Carlos' face behind me, his eyes watching me with an intensity that made me question how much of my thoughts I'd revealed out loud.

"What's better late than never?" he said, clearly confused.

"Emergence."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"You were probably good at physics, huh?" I shook my head sadly. "I sucked at it."

"Babe? You're not making any sense here. Where'd you disappear to?"

I shrugged hopelessly, "Somewhere in the great beyond. The ethers. You know me: Intergalactic Princess Stephanie of Chambersburg. Super Bitch. She strikes again, huh? When you least expect it."

He exhaled, evidently convinced he was going to get nowhere with me anytime soon. He was right. "Are we fighting, Steph?"

"No, I'm just--just being a colossal bitch. And very childish. And making a total ass of myself. Just ignore me." I looked down at the diffuser I held in my hand, wondering where I'd put the hair dryer it belonged with. "Can we drop this now? Please? I already feel like a complete fool."

He examined me carefully, then sighed. "I think you need to come inside and lie down, Babe," he took the diffuser out of my hand, tossed it on the counter, and swept me up into his arms. "You're looking more crazed than usual. Time to relax, okay? Take a deep breath. Regroup."

I sighed, curling my arm around his neck and allowing him to carry me to the bed without protest. Suddenly the idea of lying down and regrouping sounded even better than an orgasm. And that alone was pretty damned frightening! What the hell was wrong with me?

He set me down gently, and arranged my robe so that I was modestly covered. Then he joined me on the bed.

"You changed the sheets?" I murmured, enjoying the feel of his solid body as he curled up next to me and gently settled me into his embrace. "How'd you manage that? I didn't hear the maid come in…"

"No maid, Babe," he smiled, "Just me. Necessity is the Mother, etc. etc."

I looked around, taking stock of what he'd done. Necessity, indeed! It turned out that the reason he'd been delayed in joining me in the shower was because he'd used the time to strip the bed completely and replace the soiled bottom sheet with the unused top sheet. He'd then folded the dirty sheet carefully and left it for the maid to find when she cleaned the room. What she'd make of it I had little doubt: it was pretty obvious what we'd been up to. It wasn't pretty, either.

Good thing this wasn't the Burg: my mother would have gotten a call an hour later and I'd have heard something like: "Why _me_? Pamela Rozovitz' mother never gets calls from a respectable hotel telling her that her daughter the slut dirtied sheets by doing perverted and totally unnecessary things with dessert. And how greedy are you that you ordered _four _desserts for dinner instead of settling for only _one_?"

Yep, no question: the man was more than a Cuban Sex God. He was masterful _with_ the bed as well as _in_ it.

I sighed, nestling into him to express my appreciation appropriately. "How did I get so lucky, anyway?"

"Lucky, Babe?" He stroked my arms rhythmically, sending little electric charges running straight through my body and tingling my doodah all over again.

"Very lucky. My extremely horny girlfriends spent the evening suffering through some really bad porn, with some pathetic loser who can't even keep his women interested in him instead of each other…."

"Is that what their problem was?" He sounded amused.

"When they were salivating over you like you were dinner, you mean? You betcha. We had a chubby little nerd for a stripper, thanks to that bitch Gladys who stole our money and delivered some guy with a weenie the size of a cocktail frank instead of the bratwurst we ordered….."

"Babe, too much information."

"…so naturally they came upstairs to watch some pay per view porn."

"_Naturally_." I could feel his chest shaking in silent laughter.

"And what do they get for their money?"

"I'm sure you're about to tell me."

"Instead of some really hot guy who's hung like Thunder the Wonder Horse--"

"Geez, Babe, you're killing me here--"

"They get _Where's Waldo? _And three DD bimbos who want to do each other instead of him. Not that I guess I'd blame them, I guess, because if he's really all _that_ bad, then clearly they have to take things into their own hands--or into their _whatever_. Not that I could get into any of that, though. No matter how desperate I am for an orgasm. And let me tell you: I've been there! _Desperate_ I mean--not with other women. Give me the old reliable shower massager every time--"

"I don't care about DD bimbos, Babe. Or Waldo, either. _Focus_."

"Anyway, my point is that my poor friends are all completely miserable right now. If they're even still awake, I mean. I don't even know what time it is anymore. Or care, for that matter. And where am I? Instead of being sexually disadvantaged yet again in my life--like I usually am--I'm here with you, having had more orgasms in the last few hours than I've had in my entire life--"

"You've been seriously deprived, then."

"Damn skippy. And I'm planning on making up for it this weekend. Too bad they don't send condoms up with room service. Or do they?"

"Doubt it, Babe," he laughed. "Good thought, though."

"Well then, the first thing tomorrow I'm going down to the gift shop and getting another box of condoms. That gives me 24 rides total on Mr. Colossal down there--not counting the number of times your Lizard tongue is making me the happiest woman on the planet…."

"Babe, I've never had so many complements in my life. You're spoiling me."

"All well deserved, Superman. You're spectacular in the sack--and out of it, for that matter. Trust me: I'm going to spill a womanly secret to the enemy. No matter _how _blasé she may appear to you afterwards, any woman you've fucked is inwardly doing the extreme happy dance the second you look the other way. Guaranteed."

"You think so, huh? _The extreme happy dance?_" His chest was moving again. I was clearly amusing him greatly.

"You know: the extreme happy dance. _Like so_." I gave him a horizontal demonstration--complete with kicking feet, wild hip shimmies, flailing arms, twirling eyes and panting tongue--and heard him laughing openly yet again.

"You're too much, Babe. God, you make me so damned happy." He gave me a soft kiss on my forehead and cuddled me tighter.

"Back at ya. And you know what? _Honestly? _Even if you weren't hung like an African elephant on the Serengeti Plains, I'd still be all over you like white on rice."

"No, you wouldn't, Babe," he teased, "You'd be in your bathroom wearing out your old reliable shower massager. And we both know it."

"Yeah, come to think of it, you're right," I agreed laughing, "If you had a tiny little weenie, you'd be absolutely no use to me _at all_. But I'd still appreciate the rest of your gorgeous body. You'd just have to keep your jeans on, is all--so that way I could picture you and pretend you were Thunder the Wonder Horse when I had my marathon sex-a-thon in the shower."

"At least you're honest about what you want me for," he grinned.

"But fortunately for me, I don't have to pretend about any of it. Does it bother you that I'm so focused on your enormously huge and totally mesmerizingly awesome colossally talented cock? Truly?"

Carlos just smirked. "Do I really look like I'm bothered at all by that, Babe?"

"You look like you're loving every second of it, actually. But I just thought I'd check to be sure you didn't think I was politically incorrect. Or incredibly shallow. Or both."

"Perish the thought. Be as politically incorrect and shallow as you want, Babe. I can handle it."

"You can handle _anything_ with a XXXL package like that. That's what my Grandma Mazur calls it, by the way. A 'package'. I guess because it's so fun to unwrap packages and get to enjoy what's inside. If you thought Ruby was scary, you'd run for your life if you ever met my Grandma Mazur."

"She can't be that bad, Babe."

"So you think. She's currently on probation and honest-to-God registered as a NJ Sex offender. At 67 years old, yet. On account of she was arrested as a Peeping Tom--or I guess it's a Peeping Tomisina--for hiding in Mr. Graznewski's hydrangea bush and trying to get a look at _his _package while he was taking a shower. He's 82, by the way."

"Please tell me you're kidding."

"Not a joke," I confessed sadly, "Happened just after the Chambersburg Fourth of July Festival. Grandma went missing from the backyard where we were all having beer and watching the town fireworks display. We didn't even notice she was gone until my mother got a call from Eddie Gazzara at the Trenton Police Department. One of Mr. Graznewski's neighbors heard strange noises and thought she was a stray cat, so he threw a shoe at her to chase her away. She let loose with a string of profanity and fell out of the bush just as Mr. Graznewski was finishing up playing with himself---"

"Christ."

He sounded stunned.

I couldn't really blame him.

"You can't make this stuff up, Superman, trust me. Anyway, the cops hauled her downtown in handcuffs and Mr. G pressed charges because Grandma told everyone he had a wee-wee the size of her big thumb--"

"That'll make a man press charges, all right," he agreed, laughing softly.

"I hear ya. So then we had to drag my pervert weasel of a cousin Vinnie down to the slammer to bail her out at like 2 am--"

"Do I even want to know why this cousin of yours is a pervert?"

I sighed. "There was this unpleasant incident with a duck that I really don't want to get into right now. And some sheep. Among other assorted barnyard animals over the years."

"Let me guess: the Mazur genes strike again?"

"What do you think?" I rolled my eyes.

"I think you come from a really scary gene pool, Babe."

"Can't deny that." And I couldn't.

"You know, I'm beginning to realize I seriously underestimated your level of kinky when I suggested this little game of ours," he admitted.

"You had no idea what you were getting yourself into, huh? Or _who_?"

"You looked seriously hot, but the blushing kinda fooled me into thinking you were the girl next door type."

"Not me. I'm anything but normal."

"You're one of a kind, Babe. When they made you, they broke the mold."

"Good thing. My poor long-suffering mother can only handle one of me. My sister Valerie, on the other hand--"

"Older or younger?"

"Older. Only sibling, by the way. Valerie is the Perfect Burg Daughter: Saint Valerie the Dependable. The one I've been measured against all my life and found lacking in every single department."

"You're not close, then, you two?"

"Not really. Never were, even when we were younger. She lives in a very prestigious gated community in San Diego with her husband the CPA and my two perfectly-behaved nieces. I see her twice a year, and hear about her every Sunday when I'm sitting at the family dinner table. Falling short in my mother's eyes yet again because I haven't landed myself a reliable provider for keeps and churned out 2.5 kids and learned how to make pot roast to keep a man satisfied."

"You're keeping me more than satisfied, Babe. No pot roast required, either."

"My mother would freak if she knew about tonight. The cow giving the milk away for free breaks the cardinal rule of her 'How To Land A Man For Keeps' handbook."

"Somewhere in all that I think I just heard the real reason why you married the horse's ass. Good old _Dickie_."

"Bingo! Give the smart man a big cigar! The more I think about it, the more I'm sure my mother was more in love with him than I ever was. From the first time I brought him over for Sunday dinner, she was fixated on what a great future I would have if only I could get Dickie Orr interested enough to stick a ring on my finger. All my daughterly shortcomings would be forgiven in an instant if I could only get my act together long enough to land the perfect Burg husband and do her proud."

"Poor Babe."

"_Stupid _Babe, more like it. I bought into the whole thing, lock stock and barrel. You know, I actually remember standing in the bridal shop trying on this really pouffy-sleeved nightmare of a wedding gown and asking myself what the hell I was doing there. It just felt _wrong_, you know? In my gut, I mean. But then I looked over and my mother was happier than I'd ever seen her, all because of _me_--for once in my life. And I just couldn't bring myself to open my mouth and tell her I was having major second thoughts. So I sucked it up and married the bastard."

"And?"

"And before the ink was even dry on our marriage license, the Dickster was playing hide-the-cocktail-frank with Joyce 'the Skank' Barnhardt on my very own newly-delivered 30% off Ethan Allen dining room table."

"I'm going to take another inspired guess here and say your mother told you it was the kind of thing men do, and that if only you could be more of a wife to him--"

"She gave me two new cookbooks, a set of Martha Stewart non-stick cookware, and a gift certificate to Victoria's Secret, and told me to--and I quote--'make him a nice meal every evening and always greet him at the door in a negligee and a happy smile so he'll forget all about that trashy Joyce woman and give me grandchildren'."

"Shit."

"I smashed him on the head with the cookbooks, broke his glasses and gave him a hell of a shiner _and _a concussion. Then I took the cookware to his new Cadillac and totally trashed that and every last piece of his property I could find. Then I went out and bought myself a ton of new lingerie so I could toss out every last thing Dickie'd ever seen me wearing."

"Proud of you, Babe."

"For starters."

"_Babe_."

"The next morning I went downtown to his law firm and caused a public scene so bad that it made the front papers of the Chambersburg Gazette. Suffice to say he has no political future anymore--_anywhere_ in Jersey. Then that afternoon Grandma Mazur took me over to _Pleasure Treasures _and bought me the biggest most powerful vibrator they sold. Her treat. She told me--also a direct quote--'why settle for four inches of disappointment when you can have a fully rechargeable Deluxe Rotating Climax Critter Rhino Vibe?'"

Carlos laughed so hard I thought he was going to choke. "Why indeed?"

"God, I loved that thing. Burned the motor out in less than 2 months."

"I can actually believe that, Babe. And registered sex offender or not, I have to say I love your Grandma."

"She'd love you, too," I grinned, "Of course, she'd grope the hell out of you--front and back. If you thought your poor little Cuban ass was sore from the Intergalactic Princess, you ain't seen _nothing_ yet. My Grandmother has this proclivity for pinching good-looking hot tight asses---"

"For real?"

"No lie. Yours definitely qualifies as a prime candidate for Edna Mazur's special attention: she'd have her claws into you so frequently you'd be bright red, and so sore you couldn't sit down without a rubber donut under you. And you'd definitely need to check your hydrangea bushes nightly once she got a look at the huge bulge in your jeans. But she'd absolutely love you right back, Superman. Guaranteed."

"She actually bought you a _vibrator_, Babe?"

"The primo model, yet. With some attachments that looked like they belonged on the Space Shuttle. Thing actually came with an instruction manual so thick I could use it as a doorstop. Who the hell needs directions on how to use a vibrator, anyway?"

"Not you, clearly."

"Damned straight. That thing was freaking _amazing_. But at the risk of inflating your enormous ego even more, I have to admit: compared to the monster equipment you're packing down there, the Rhino was more like a tame little puppy dog."

"The Monster thanks you, Babe."

"Course size really doesn't matter if you don't know how to use it. You definitely know how to use it. God, do you ever know how to use it."

"Is that a hint that you want me to use it again right now?"

"Is the Pope Catholic?"

"You just need to ask, Babe. Think of me as your own personal rechargeable Deluxe Rhino vibe…ready for action at a moment's notice."

"You come with any special attachments I should know about?" I teased.

"All the bells and whistles included, Babe. No instruction manual necessary, though."

"You ain't lying about that, Superman! Pass the bucket over here and let's see how freaky we can get this time."

"Your pick, Babe. But please--no more desserts!"

"Like I didn't notice you wheeled that cart out the door two seconds after I hit the bathroom?"

"Self-preservation, Babe."

"You realize I'm never going to be able to look at tiramisu again without remembering how scrumptious your cock tasted totally coated in it."

"It felt even better than that--you have _exceptional_ oral skills, Babe."

"Thank you very kindly, sir. I aim to please."

"You definitely did that, all right."

I was the recipient of a full on wolf grin that had me grinning ear to ear.

"Keep looking at me like that, I'll have to try again without the tiramisu and see if I can inspire you to return the favor again with that Lizard tongue of yours."

"69 is my favorite number, Babe."

"What a coincidence, Superman. Mine too."

I unwrapped the paper from the condom, and read the next fantasy without taking a breath.

"Well?" Carlos waited expectantly. "What are we doing this time, Babe?"

I shook my head slowly, processing what Carlos had written. "I guess…we're going back to school." My tummy fluttered as I pictured what the night held in store for me next.

"You have anything to say about that, Steph?" he asked quietly, clearly giving me the opportunity to voice any objections--or limitations--I had about what he wanted from me.

I bit my lip and summoned my inner slut again. "What do I have to say about it?" I lowered my voice to a throaty whisper. "How about…I've been a _very _naughty girl, Headmaster Carlos. I deserve to be _punished_."

His grin grew to 200 watts, and his eyes sparkled wickedly. "Don't worry, Babe: you _will_ be. I'm _very _strict when it comes to naughty little minxes like you. I want you in my office in 5 minutes. In uniform. Don't keep me waiting or you'll be a very sorry little girl."

_Oh boy._

He'd warned me earlier that payback was a bitch.

Looks like I was about to find out exactly what he'd meant by that.

I couldn't wait!


	20. Chapter 20

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 20

When I emerged from the bathroom some 15 minutes later, clad in my schoolgirl 'uniform'--or at least the best I could come up with, given my limited wardrobe at the hotel--I found Carlos sitting at the desk, his fingers steepled and his look very very stern and nerve-tinglingly dangerous. I was late, and I was _definitely_ in trouble with the Headmaster.

I had to bite down hard on my lip to suppress a smile: he had taken one of the ripped bands from his silk shirt that I'd used to tie him to the bed, and fashioned it into a make-shift tie. He wore it against his bare chest, and the tie ran a straight line down to my favorite portion of his anatomy. I slowly walked over to the desk, enjoying the sight of his eyes roaming over my body.

What exactly had I settled on for my 'uniform'? I'd found a perfect use for the red plaid miniskirt I'd picked up on special sale from the Victoria's Secret website. I had gotten it then had second thoughts, so I'd brought it with me intending to offer it to Amanda--it seemed more her style than mine--but I was relieved now I hadn't had the chance to give it up just yet. I paired it with a white tailored cotton blouse that I'd left unbuttoned and tied under my breasts, leaving my tummy naked. I'd donned a white bra and panties, and chosen black fishnet thigh highs leading down to my 4 ½ inch black snakeskin stilettos. My hair was in pig tails, and I saw his wicked glimmer of amusement as he noted it. I had no doubt at all that he was well satisfied with this costume….

My voice was low and breathy, as I did my best to interject just the right amount of nervousness to my tone. After all, the Headmaster was hot--but he'd also warned he was very strict. "I was ordered to report to you, Headmaster Carlos." A long pause, while I allowed my eyes to glissade over his body head to toe--stopping at the ever-growing bulge that I knew would provide so much delicious pleasure once the fantasy got really rolling. "I'm here now. What was it you wanted? Sir?"

He took a deep breath and did his best version of my Burg death glare. "How good of you to find room in your undoubtedly very busy schedule to finally join me, Miss Mazur."

_Mazur? _I blinked, then realized that he'd assumed Grandma Mazur was my _father's _mother and that Mazur was my maiden name. Not surprising: those notorious sex-crazed Hungarian genes we shared didn't really sound like anything my straight-laced mother would have had any part of; I found it hard to reconcile it myself sometimes. I opened my mouth to correct him, only to be cut off immediately.

"_Silence! _There are only two reasons for you to ever open your mouth in my presence. One is to give out answers if I ask you for them. And the other is to take my cock inside when I allow you the privilege of sucking it. No other reasons. _None. _Do you understand the rules of Headmaster Carlos' Disciplinary Academy For Naughty Little Sluts, Stephanie?"

_Oh boy. Did I!_

"Yes," I said, my doodah tingling at the thought of taking Carlos' huge length into my mouth again. "I understand the rules of your Academy, Headmaster Carlos."

"I'm very displeased with your conduct, Stephanie. You clearly have no respect for my busy schedule--you were ordered to be here at a specific time. And you're quite late. No explanations can justify your conduct, so I will not waste any more time by questioning what you found to do that was more important than obeying my summons. But I take your lateness as a deliberate insult to me personally. You're going to have to be punished severely for your tardiness. You deserve that, don't you?"

"Yes, sir." I lowered my eyes in subservience. "I deserve to be punished severely."

"You _will _be," he assured me, "But not only for that, you naughty little girl. Your conduct since you've been a student here at my Academy has been truly abysmal, Stephanie. Your professors have been reporting to me in detail on all of your bad behavior throughout the semester. Your repeated tardiness to all of your classes. Your extremely surly and uncooperative attitude towards any and all authority. Your refusal to study your required lessons and do your homework. I'm growing more and more…._displeased_…with you as time goes by." His hand brushed the bulge straining to be free of his tight jeans, and I could tell _exactly_ what was growing. At a very satisfactory pace, it seemed to me. And it sure didn't seem displeased at all. Quite the contrary, in fact!

I licked my lips in anticipation of what--and who--was to come: namely _me_. Any time now, too, if that eager feeling down South was any indication. I met his eyes, now almost black in arousal, and my toes curled at the heat he returned in his blazing stare. Mindful of the rules, I said nothing.

"You have, from all reports, a seemingly limitless ability to behave shamefully and provocatively. To bring disgrace upon the Academy and me, personally, as its Headmaster. Do you know what I find to be the single most reprehensible act you've committed thus far, Stephanie?"

"No, sir." I shuffled my feet nervously, feigning discomfort and trying my best to look both shameful and provocative. "I have no idea, Headmaster Carlos."

"You have no idea?" His eyebrow arched scornfully, "Well, _that_ just says it all, now doesn't it, Miss Mazur? _'I have no idea.' _Do you know what that tells me? Do you?"

"No, sir," I shrugged hopelessly, "Except---"

"_Except_?" he prompted.

"That I'm stupid?" I guessed, eyes downcast.

"You're anything but stupid, Stephanie," he gave me a contemptuous snort, "No, stupidity is not one of your many sins, you little vixen. Your conduct is not the result of ignorance: instead, it is willful and deliberate--and the severe discipline you will receive from me will reflect that. No. What your statement tells me is that you've behaved so disgracefully and broken so many rules so often and so egregiously that you have no idea which _particular_ transgression I've heard of that angers me. And I am quite angry with you, Stephanie. Quite angry indeed."

He unbuckled his black leather belt slowly and slid it out of his jeans, folding it carefully into fourths and placing it on the desk where he continued to stroke it calculatingly as his eyes traveled my length.

_Eep. _

I remembered using that same belt on his tight hot ass no less than _six times _when we were doing our first fantasy of Intergalactic Princess Stephanie and her Sex Slave. Nope, there was no question about it: I was definitely not a happy little camper right now. I swallowed uncomfortably, and bit my lip worriedly. _Payback's a bitch_, he'd warned me. Looked like I was going to get a taste of my own medicine. _Crap! _I suddenly recalled his earlier qualification to my firm 'no butt stuff' mandate: _'No butt stuff. Technically_', he'd agreed, a treacherous glint in his eyes. Now I understood what he'd meant. _Omigod, Omigod, Omigod! Not good, Stephanie! You are in so fucking much trouble now!! _

He smirked, and I knew damned well he was reading my mind again. "You definitely are, Miss Mazur: a great deal of trouble. In _a world of hurt_, as they say."

_Gulp._

"And I'm not going to insult you with the little platitude that 'this will hurt me more than it hurts you'. Because it _won't_. I'm going to enjoy every single second of this, Stephanie. And you're not. Count on it."

I opened my mouth to protest, and quickly shut it again. No sense in breaking more rules than I already had---_whatever_ they were.

"I suppose you'd like to know exactly which transgression is going to make this next punishment so severe. Wouldn't you, Miss Mazur?"

"Yes, Headmaster. I would." I rocked unhappily on my feet, right to left and back again, trying to keep my eyes off that damned leather belt that sat so prominently on the desk. "If you please, sir."

"I had a very enlightening conversation with one of your professors this evening: Professor _Raoul_. You remember dear old Professor _Raoul_, don't you, Miss Mazur? You remember him quite well, I think, now don't you?"

_Shit. This just gets worse and worse! _

"It does indeed," he agreed smoothly, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "And to answer your unspoken question: yes, you _did_ say that out loud."

I closed my eyes, unable to look at that damned leather belt a second more. I could already feel the stinging on my tender bottom. _No, no, no, no, no! No butt stuff!! Not fair!!_

"Life is not fair, little Stephanie," his voice was soft with amusement, "But you should have thought more carefully about the consequences of your actions when you begged poor mortified Professor Raoul to take you for a little pony ride, now _shouldn't_ you?"

"Yes, sir. I made a mistake, Headmaster Carlos. I shouldn't have asked him---"

"No, indeed you _shouldn't_ have," he sighed unhappily, "You should have asked _me_ instead. But you _didn't_…"

I swallowed nervously, seeing him pick up the belt. Apparently the time was at hand for my punishment.

"However," he paused, and seemed to consider carefully, "Given that Professor Raoul assures me that nothing actually _transpired _between the two of you---"

I held my breath hopefully. Disaster might still be averted!

"Did it, Stephanie? Did anything at all untoward happen between you and Professor Raoul?"

"No, Headmaster Carlos," I shook my head firmly, "Nothing at all happened. Not ever. I promise. Nothing. I don't even like Professor Raoul."

"You were just being a naughty little minx and trying to provoke me, is that it? By teasing poor Professor Raoul and waiting for him to report your shameful proposal to me."

"Yes, sir. I was being very naughty."

"And deliberately trying to provoke me."

"Yes, sir. I was. I'm sorry."

"Why exactly was it that you felt the need to provoke me, Miss Mazur?"

"Because---because---"

"_Because_?" His hand waved impatiently, encouraging me to get to the point quickly.

"Because I wanted _you_ to take me for a pony ride. And you wouldn't do it. Sir."

His mouth twitched as he fought to control a smile. "That's because a pony ride is a very very special treat only intended for _good _littlegirls, Stephanie. Not for _bad_ little girls like yourself. Do you really think that _you--_of all the little naughty sluts in my Disciplinary Academy--deserve a pony ride from me, after all of your repeatedly disgraceful behavior while you've been here?"

"No, sir," I sighed unhappily. "I don't deserve a pony ride from you."

"Exactly." He shook his head firmly. "You _don't_."

"But I still _want_ one anyway." I blurted.

There was a moment's silence.

"Did I warn you about opening your mouth?" his voice was hard and clipped. "_Did I, Miss Mazur_?"

"Yes, Headmaster Carlos. You did. You warned me."

"Under what two circumstances did I tell you I would permit you to open your mouth?"

"To answer your question, sir. If you asked one."

"And?"

"To---to----"

"To _what_, Miss Mazur?"

"To suck your cock, Headmaster Carlos. When you chose to permit it."

"And _neither_ condition applied in this case, did it, Stephanie?"

I shook my head. "No, sir."

"My, my! You do seem to be either unwilling or unable to follow _any _of the rules of Headmaster Carlos' Disciplinary Academy For Naughty Little Sluts, Stephanie!" He leaned back in his chair and considered the problem thoughtfully. "I shall have to remedy that right now. You have given me no choice. I have a responsibility as Headmaster, and I need to fulfill that duty. To take you…_firmly in hand_, as it were. Address this lack of discipline problem of yours once and for all."

I took a deep breath and waited.

"Come over here, Stephanie," he crooked his finger and gestured to me.

I shuffled over nervously.

"Pull down your panties to your knees, you little minx."

I did as ordered, feeling the wetness pooling between my legs. Another pair of panties ruined!

"Now climb across my lap." He slapped his thigh. "It's high time I taught you a lesson, you naughty girl."

I felt my tummy hosting a butterfly convention, and lay down exactly as he'd demanded. I could feel his rock-hard cock against my tummy, and my doodah was now making my friend the Wizard's favorite Cream of Stephanie Soup at an astonishingly rapid rate.

His hands settled into place: one rested on the small of my back, anchoring me in place; the other began--ever so slowly--to rub my ass cheeks in a circular motion that had me ready to moan aloud in pure pleasure. The man had magic hands, no doubt about it. After a few moments of the massage, his hand grasped the hem of my miniskirt and lifted it to my waist, positioning it so that my bare bottom was on display.

"Quite lovely," he murmured, "You have a very tempting little ass, Stephanie. Perfectly formed little globes. Ripe. Tight. Absolutely magnificent. I'm going to enjoy disciplining you very much."

_Eep!_

His hand began that slow circular massage again, and the sensual feeling of his hand on my naked skin was absolutely delicious. I closed my eyes focusing on the hardness of his cock as it pressed against my soft tummy, secure in the knowledge that soon I'd have him pumping deeply inside of me. I sighed deeply and happily in anticipation.

"Impatient little vixen, aren't you? We have a very long time to go until we get to that part," he warned me. _Damned ESP! _"First we have the parts Headmaster Carlos intends to especially enjoy. Like _this _one."

_WACK! _The slap was sudden and powerful.

"OUCH!" I yelped unhappily. "That hurt!"

"It was intended to," came his unapologetic voice. "You're just damned good and lucky I'm not using the belt on your sweet little ass, Babe."

"You're _not_?" I let out the long breath I'd seemingly been holding forever.

"You want me to?" He sounded amused.

"No." _Hell, no!_

"I didn't think so. Damned fucker stung like you wouldn't believe. _Six times_, Princess. I remember every single one of them."

His hand continued to make circles, rubbing and squeezing my tender skin expertly until he settled on just the right place at just the right moment.

_WACK! _The second slap was just as powerful as the first one, but on the _other_ cheek.

"OW!" I aimed the Burg death glare out of the back of my head and hopefully shot it off to register my extreme displeasure.

"Drama queen." I could hear the smile in his voice.

"I said 'no butt stuff'," I reminded him in annoyance.

"And I said '_technically_'," he defended himself.

_WACK! _Another strong one: back to the first cheek this time.

"I hate this fantasy," I sniped.

"Suck it up, Babe," he chuckled, "You're gonna hate it a lot more before you get to the good part."

"Oh, so there's a _good _part?" I snorted, "Like when?"

"Don't be a brat while Headmaster Carlos has you over his knee," he advised, "Not smart, Babe."

"I don't like Headmaster Carlos very much, you know."

"Too bad: he's liking you more and more. God, you have the hottest tightest ass I've ever seen, Babe. I swear, I could actually write poetry about your ass."

"You'd have to stop spanking me to do it," I groused.

"Not happening anytime soon, Babe."

_WACK! _Another forceful swat, this time to the other side of my rapidly-reddening ass.

_Only two more and then it will be over._

"If the number were _six_, it would be. And yes, you said _that_ out loud too."

"But I only hit you six times," I protested unhappily.

"True, you did," he agreed, his hands massaging me as he searched for just the right spot to place the fifth swat. "But then you used the leather belt on me, remember?"

"Yeah but you're a guy," I argued, "You can handle pain better than I can. And you're in the Army. You're supposed to be tough. I'm just a wimp."

He laughed softly, "You're one of the strongest women I've ever met, Babe. Nothing about you is wimpy. Not a damned thing."

"That would be a complement if only your hand wasn't on my ass getting ready to keep spanking me red-raw," I pointed out, "That last part kind of removes the complement part of it."

"Kinda," he agreed, "And you're nowhere near being red-raw. I'm not spanking you hard enough to do anything but make it sting a bit. And look pretty. Pink and just a bit hot to the touch."

"Hurts," I complained.

"_Babe_." I swear, I could almost see him rolling his eyes.

"Only six, OK?" I whined shamelessly.

"Maybe."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"We could maybe work out a deal."

"A _deal_?" I was outraged!

_WACK! _Number five was just as noisy and stung just as badly.

"What kind of a deal?" I folded quickly.

"I had been thinking of paddling you _15_ times," he whispered, "One for every one of those damned imaginary inches you gave good old Professor Raoul."

FIFTEEN??

_Omigod!_

"But I think I could maybe--just _maybe_--cut that down just a little bit."

"To six?"

"Six _additional_."

"Six _total_."

"That's a lot of cutting, Babe."

"I could make it worth your while."

"I'm listening."

"Remember the tiramisu?"

"That would make me _add_ swats, Babe, not cut them."

"Remember my 'oral skills' though?"

"Vividly."

"I could be even _more_ skillful."

"Maybe."

"Come on, Carlos! Stop spanking me and I'll make you a _very_ happy man. Please?"

"Headmaster Carlos. And just a tiny bit redder, Babe. Until they look like ripe red apples. Then I'm going to take a bite---"

"The hell you are!" I made to stand up, only to be held down firmly. "You're not going to bite my ass, you freaky pervert!"

"Just a little nibble, Babe. You have no idea what you're doing to me."

"I don't get off having teeth marks on my butt," I protested. "I didn't bite you."

"I'd have let you if you wanted to."

"That's because you're a kinky freak, Superman."

"True. But it's your own fault for wearing that skin tight red dress earlier tonight and having such a God-damned tight hot gorgeously sinful ass. You reminded me of red ripe apples…and you know how much I love fruit for dessert."

"No apples. Not _this _variety, anyway." I was pretty confident now that I wasn't going to get any more swats: Carlos was devoting himself now to rubbing my ass and verbally worshipping my hotness. Plus I knew he wasn't going to do anything I didn't want, now that I'd opened my mouth and let him know I'd had enough. I knew I could trust him, and I did.

His hands were starting to work some pretty serious magic on me, though; and now that the spanking had stopped, I was definitely enjoying the massage part. Particularly when his fingers every so often slid between my legs to stroke my slit.

"You like _that _part, though," he said, sliding my panties down to my ankles and watching as I carelessly kicked them off and spread my legs further apart for him. "I get the feeling that I could keep this up awhile longer and you'd have no complaints at all."

"I might be able to live with _this_ a bit longer," I admitted, "But no more spanking."

"_One_ more," he bargained, "Six total, right? You had five. One more. Then we're even. I'll forget about Raoul and his 15 inches."

"One more," I sighed, "You're _whining_, Carlos. You realize that, don't you?"

"It worked, though, didn't it?" I could hear the satisfaction in his voice.

I shifted, rubbing against his hard length. "That feels good," I moaned as his fingers continued to stroke my slit, teasing my pussy until it tingled in anticipation. "Right _there_!" I demanded. "And rub _harder_!"

"Babe," he laughed, "Once again you're high-jacking my fantasy."

"It worked, though, didn't it?" I mocked him, enjoying our teasing.

"I love how wet you get for me, Steph."

"Keep rubbing your fingers there and I'll get a lot wetter," I promised happily. "_OMIGOD_!" I felt his fingers move further down until his index finger settled on my clit, then for the next few minutes he devoted himself to making me a very satisfied woman.

_OMIGOD! OMIGOD! OMIGOD! _I bucked on his lap and moaned in delight as the last waves of my unexpected orgasm faded. "That was soooo _good_."

"I'm glad you enjoyed, Babe." He cupped my cheeks lovingly, one after the other, then removed his hand from the small of my back. "Time to make Headmaster Carlos just as happy."

I climbed off his lap and he opened his legs to allow me to sink to my knees. I licked my lips lasciviously and grinned as he raised one brow and tugged on my pigtails.

"I like these," he whispered, "Nice touch."

"I thought so," I agreed, unsnapping the button to his jeans and slowly unzipping them to unleash his enormous cock. "Well, well, look who's ready to come out and play with me."

"More than ready, Babe. I can't wait to have you---"

My tongue interrupted him as I flicked it over the tip of his length and tasted the pre-cum that signaled just how ready he was for me. "Yummy." I teased, running my tongue slowly along the length of his huge cock, feeling him shiver in excitement as I began to work some magic of my own.

"Oh, Christ!" he moaned, "That feels good, Steph."

"Tastes even better," I whispered as I moistened my lips and leaned in to take as much of him into my mouth as I could. My hands--both of them--circled around his generous girth, and I devoted myself to stroking every inch I couldn't fit into my hungry mouth.

"_OHHHH. _Yes, Babe! Oh, God! That's so fucking good!"

I removed my mouth from his shaft long enough to demand, "Lift up." He shifted himself in the chair so that I could impatiently tug his jeans down to his ankles. "I want to taste every last inch of you, Carlos!" I pulled the 'tie' off him and tossed it over my shoulder.

He groaned as I resumed my ministrations, taking his huge cock in and out of my eager mouth, deeper and deeper every time, sucking him greedily. I felt him watching me as my head bobbed up and down, keenly focused on my task. He played with my pigtails, twirling them in his fingers as I continued to pleasure him. "Shit, that's sooooo good, Babe!!"

I slid my hands up and down his rock-hard cock, my pussy juices flowing as I listened to him wail louder as I quickened the pace. I freed his cock from my mouth just long enough to allow myself the opportunity to use my tongue on his balls; and after tracing them lightly I took each into my mouth in turn and suckled them gently. Then I released them, and blew softly over them before returning to deep throat his cock. He threw his head back in delight, and started muttering unintelligible Spanish. Moments later, he began to pull back.

"No more, Babe, I can't hold out another second."

Neither could I: I needed him inside me so much I was ready to scream. I reached over for the condom package and ripped it open, sheathing him as I stood and began to undress. I tossed off my blouse, then stripped off my bra and hurled it carelessly onto the floor. My skirt followed, leaving me clad only in black fishnet thigh-highs and my FMPs. I went to sit up on the desk, only to feel Carlos' hand on my arm.

"Please, Babe, I'm begging you," he said, his eyes glittering feverishly. "Let me have you from the back."

"Carlos," my eyes widened, "I don't---"

"Not in the ass, Babe," he assured me, "Doggie style. Bend over the desk, Steph, please! Let me take you from behind."

I held my breath, then remembered this was, after all, _his_ fantasy--not mine. And I did trust him not to go where I didn't want him. So I nodded, and turned, leaning over the desk and spreading my legs as I arched myself in invitation.

"God, I love you, Babe," he breathed, then I felt him adjust my arms so that they folded under my head and acted as a pillow to cradle my face. "I won't hurt you, Steph, I swear."

"I know," I whispered and tried to relax. Doggie style had never been one of my favorite positions. I'd tried it once or twice--Dickie had been relentless--but I'd hated every minute of it. I didn't like being in what I perceived as a subservient position; and I missed the intimacy of face to face love-making. For Carlos, though, I was prepared to do whatever made him happy.

I bit my lip, waiting for him to ram inside and start pounding, telling myself to relax and allow myself to surrender to him. He won't hurt me, he won't do what Dickie had tried to do each time…no butt stuff, Carlos knew that. _No butt stuff._

"Going in the same door, Babe, just from the back side," he whispered.

I guess I'd spoken my thoughts aloud again. Or that damned ESP was working again.

His hands stroked my shoulders gently, almost massaging them, before moving down slowly and tenderly along the length of my back and skimming my waist before settling on my hips. "So perfect, Babe. Every beautiful inch of you. Utterly perfect." I felt his length stroking between my legs, playing with my slit, teasing it, tantalizing it before finally he ever-so-tenderly slipped the head of his cock into my hot wet pussy.

"Carlos," I moaned, "I love you so much."

" Te amo también, bebé, siempre y por siempre." (_I love you, too, Babe, always and forever_.)

He pushed in, but only a few inches, before pulling out completely and resuming his stroking against my slit. Then again he slid in, but after a few short inches, again he removed his length and began to rub it against my slit.

"You're driving me crazy," I whimpered.

"I want you just as ready for me as I am for you, Babe."

"I'm _more_ than ready," I whispered, "I'm fucking _aching_ for you!"

"Almost. Not quite there yet, though. But you will be soon," he promised, leaning in and dropping a long path of hot hungry kisses from my shoulder blade down along my back. His hands cupped my ass cheeks, and squeezed gently, "God, I can't wait to watch your ass move as I ride you, Babe."

He slid the tip of his cock inside me again, then did as before: holding onto my hips as he slowly and teasingly moved a few inches inside me before starting to pull back out again. This time I was ready for him! Taking him by surprise, I suddenly thrust my ass backwards, impaling myself upon his cock to the hilt. I reached my arms back and my hands clutched at his wrists, locking him into place as I ground my ass into him--delighting in the feel of him as he filled me completely.

"YES!" I screamed, and began to undulate, hearing his hoarse cries of pleasure as he surrendered and began pumping inside me, harder and deeper with every stroke. I met him thrust for thrust, pushing back to take him inside me and pulling away as he withdrew. "God, that's just the way I need it! Don't stop!"

"I can't stop," he admitted gutturally, pounding faster as I turned my head to the side and looked over my shoulder to drink in the sight of him. His usually-controlled face was so expressive in that moment that I was mesmerized by its ferocious beauty. His eyes were like black diamonds, glittering with intensity; his mouth hung open as his breath came in rapid pants. "Fuck, Babe! You're so tight! It feels like heaven!"

"Omigod! I'm cuming! I'm cuming!" I held on to his wrists for dear life and my body exploded, as I shook uncontrollably. I had only a brief moment of rest before the next wave of pleasure took hold, and it was even more powerful than the first. My cry was long and loud, and I couldn't even begin to form words to warn him of the onslaught of the newest orgasm.

Unable to summon the energy to hold on any longer, my hands freed his wrists and I slid my arms upwards on the desk in the vain attempt to pillow my face. But I never made it there: a third wave of pleasure suddenly wracked my body, this one seemingly never-ending. I pushed down on my hands, arching my back and throwing my head back so I could just howl in ecstasy.

Carlos used the opportunity to lean towards me and slide his left forearm under me, reaching across my chest to cup my right breast. He kneaded it expertly, his thumb tormenting my nipple, as his mouth nibbled my earlobe, alternately using his tongue to flick into my ear and his teeth to send more delicious little quivers running through my already-shaking body.

Then his right hand slid down from my hip and he focused on torturing my clit with his thumb and his index finger. He stroked as I bucked underneath him, and his cock now pistoned into me furiously as bit down on my lips in a desperate attempt to keep from screaming so loud I'd wake the entire 4th floor of the hotel. I went over the rainbow again when he squeezed my clit, and I felt my eyes rolling back into my head.

He timed it perfectly: he used that last swat he'd bargained for, number six--the one I thought he'd forgotten he was entitled to--at exactly the second he felt himself cuming. It sent me spiraling over the edge with him, both of us lost to all reason by now. I'd honestly lost count of how many orgasms I'd enjoyed at this point. I was panting desperately trying to keep oxygen in my lungs, and as we both exploded the last thing I remember was his cry of release…then I saw the white ball of light aiming straight for me…and I knew no more.


	21. Chapter 21

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 21

"_Fucker nailed me again, didn't it?" I mumbled, rubbing my eyes as I tried to sit up in bed. "How long was I out for this time?"_

_Carlos looked at me in confusion, "What _nailed you, Babe? You had another one of your--what did you call them? Doomsday Orgasms. I carried you over here to the bed, and you were unconscious for just a few minutes."

"Damned ball of fucking white light," I tried to explain, a frown furrowing my brow, "Aims right for me, you know? Right at my head! Whirls around and around," I waved my arms, mimicking the spiral the ball made--and almost batting Carlos in the face. "And then _BAM_! Huge explosion! I just can't seem to get out of the way of it in time, no matter how hard I try. Then I go down like a ton of bricks."

Clearly he had no clue what I was babbling about. "Never mind any of that. Just relax, Babe," he comforted me, "You just lie back now and focus on getting your strength back, OK? When you feel up to it, I'll carry you into the bathroom to wash up, but for now I just--"

"OH!! Did you _clean_ me?" I blinked, seeing the washcloth and the towel and noticing how fresh I felt down South, "That's so _sweet _of you, Carlos!"

He looked a bit sheepish, "Least I could do, Babe--considering I sort of got carried away there for a bit. Did I hurt you?"

"No," I assured him. "Not at all. It felt good…..except for the spanking part, that is," I added hurriedly. "I don't like butt stuff."

"So you keep reminding me, Babe. Still, I kinda thought you liked that last swat," he teased. "At least a _little_ bit."

"It was _OK_," I shrugged, carefully avoiding his amused eyes, feeling myself flush as I remembered that delicious sixth Wack that had sent me soaring into the second Doomsday Orgasm of my life. Two in one night, yet! "The…_other_ part…was OK too. Just not the spanking thing."

"Oh, so 'the _other _part was OK', huh?" he laughed, "That's why you passed out screaming with another Doomsday Orgasm and had to be revived. Not that you _enjoyed_ it, or anything. It was just '_OK_'."

"Egotistical bastard," I muttered, narrowing my eyes at him.

"That's me, Babe."

"It was….better than I thought it would be."

"Glad to hear it." He grinned, climbing into bed beside me and pulling me close so that I was nestled in his arms. "Nothing makes a man feel more like a man than hearing his woman say he was 'OK'…and that he was better than she thought he would be."

"You know damned well how incredible you are in the sack," I snorted, "Or on the desk, as the case may be. Your enormous ego doesn't need to be constantly stroked." Then I replayed his words, and got a goofy grin on my face. "Omigod! You called me your woman!"

"You _are _my woman," he squeezed me to him and kissed me tenderly on the nose. "You know it, and I know it. No matter what happens, you'll _always_ be my woman, Babe."

"Yeah," I whispered, wrapping my arm around his chest and cuddling closer, desperately forcing out the 'no matter what happens' part of the sentence from my mind. I didn't want to think of that damned tour of duty! I didn't want to hear that he might not be back, that he might….. I couldn't even allow myself to think the word. He wasn't going to die! "I'll always be your woman, Carlos. And you'll always be my man."

"Siempre y por siempre, bebé." He saw my questioning look, and translated, "Always and forever, Babe."

"For me too," I repeated, "Siempre y por siempre, Carlos."

"Can I ask you a question, Babe? A serious question, I mean?"

"Ask me anything."

"When…when I was getting ready to enter you, you froze up and you said 'no butt stuff'. Even though I'd already told you I wouldn't go there. Did you not trust me, Babe?"

He sounded unsure and hurt. I pulled back and looked up at his face, needing him to understand. "If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't have bent over and let you…_you know_. I just…God, this is hard for me to explain. The thing is: it all goes back to Dickie."

"Your ex-husband?"

"Dick The Prick," I nodded, "He was…_relentless_, I guess you could say. He wanted to do it that way all the time--"

"Doggie style."

"No! You know! _Butt stuff! _He wanted to---to do _that_! And I didn't want to. I just…it doesn't appeal to me. It never was anything I ever wanted to try. So I said _no_. Over and over I'd say no. I'd explain why. Didn't matter to him. He'd keep bringing it up time after time. Until I finally stopped explaining, and just said flat-out _no_. I shouldn't have to explain--"

"No, you shouldn't, Babe," he sighed, "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," I pointed out reasonably, "It was Dickie's. He didn't care about _me_ or what _I_ wanted or needed or felt comfortable with. It was what _he_ wanted, that's all that mattered to the bastard. Ever. So he'd demand doggie style instead. Which also…well, it just didn't appeal to me. I don't like not seeing the face of the guy I'm…_you know_."

"Got it."

"To be accommodating, trying to keep the sinking marriage afloat, I finally agreed to do it for him. Whether I wanted to or not. So I let him…." I couldn't keep the anger out of my voice, "And the bastard tried to put it in my ass anyway. He--"

Carlos froze. "He raped you? Anally?"

There was a long pause before I could get the words out. "He almost did. Not once but _twice_. I pulled away when I realized what he was doing, and tried to run out of the bedroom. And he grabbed me and we fought. Then…he hit me."

His voice was dangerously quiet, "He beat you, Steph?"

"Not exactly: I got away before that could happen. He hit me once or twice. In the face." I closed my eyes, remembering the horror of it. "He told me I 'belonged' to him, that as my husband, he was 'entitled' to _whatever _kind of sex he wanted, _whenever_ he wanted it."

"God-damn son of a bitch."

"And I told him _no. _I pulled away and locked myself in the bathroom until he finally slammed out of the house. Probably went to Joyce or some other bimbo, although at the time I was too stupid to realize it."

"More likely too traumatized."

"I packed my bag right away, and went to my parents' house. I didn't want to be there when he got home--just in case. _You know_?" I felt the tears falling and brushed them away, hating this part of the story just as much. "My mother opened the door and saw me standing there with my suitcase. I didn't even get to finish the sentence--or tell her why--before she slammed the door in my face."

"She did _what_??" Carlos sounded incredulous.

"I told her I was leaving Dickie," I whispered, "And she told me that he was my husband; that whatever I'd done to 'offend him' I needed to 'apologize for'..."

"Good Christ, I can't believe I'm hearing this."

"She said that I needed to go back home immediately and stop 'disgracing' my family," I quoted her hurtful words, which I'd pushed to the back of my mind for so long. "That I'd taken vows of obedience before God, and that I needed to live up to them. That I was 'lucky' that 'a man as respectable as Dickie Orr' wanted me. And that I needed to 'grow up' and make him the kind of wife he expected me to be. So I went back to him."

"Babe." His voice was low and filled with pain for me.

"I never told my mother what he'd tried to do; obviously whatever it was didn't matter in the least to her. What mattered was keeping my marriage together so that the Burg didn't think she'd raised a daughter who couldn't hold onto a man." I was unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice, even now. "But I told the bastard that if he ever tried it again, I'd kill him. And I moved into the guest room that same night, and kept my door locked."

"Proud of you, Babe."

"For what? I told you: I went back to him."

"You had nowhere else to go, did you?"

"No. I had no job. He'd made me quit my salesgirl job at Macy's when we got married. And Mary Lou--my best friend since grammar school--she was pregnant with her first baby, so I couldn't go sleep on her sofa. And I couldn't afford a lawyer or a place of my own. So I sucked it up, and I stayed with Dickie. But I never trusted him again. Even when--"

"When what?"

"A week or two later, when it was clear to him I wasn't going to sleep with him again, he wanted to go see Father McNamara. Our parish priest. Dickie wanted us to get counseling. He said he wanted us to save our marriage, that he loved me. And he knew I loved him. That he was sorry he 'upset' me. That I was probably just 'nervous'. Or PMSing. But whatever the reason was, he said, he wanted us to be husband and wife again."

"And you went?"

"Yeah. I went. Stupid me, right? I mean, Dickie knew damned well I wasn't going to tell Father McNamara what the _real _argument was about. So instead he made up some story about how 'shy' I was about sexual relations. Which Father McNamara thought was just _wonderful_…what a good Catholic girl I was! He assumed I was…_you know…_a virgin before Dickie and I got married. Which I _wasn't_, thanks to Joe Morelli and that whole thing at the Tasty Pastry when I was 16." I laughed hollowly, "Evidently Father McNamara didn't hang out at Mario's Sub Shop, so he didn't get a chance to read the glowing reviews Morelli left for my performance."

Carlos said nothing, but I could feel the anger radiating off his body in waves.

"So…long story short. Father McNamara told me to trust my husband, that God intended the Sacrament of Marriage to provide for a man to introduce a woman into the joys of the flesh for the procreation of our race…yadda, yadda, yadda. Back home we went. Dickie was beaming ear to ear. And I got a call no more than an hour later from my mother wanting to know why I felt the need to 'humiliate' her in front of all her friends and neighbors by admitting to Father McNamara that I was such a failure as a woman that I needed to be told how to be a good wife."

"I don't know what to say to that, Babe." His voice was shell-shocked. "What about your father? Where was he in all this?"

"My father pretty much stays out of things. Always has. He doesn't say very much," I shrugged, "My mother does enough talking for both of them. He didn't know what was going on, though. I didn't tell him about…._it_. How could I? God knows what my mother told him the problems were between me and Dickie. But he just asked me once--a few days after I'd found Dickie fucking Joyce Barnhardt on my dining room table--whether or not Dickie'd ever made me happy at all in our marriage. I said no. And he held me really close and he said 'I'm sorry, Pumpkin. I should have done something sooner. Please forgive me.' Then he told me he'd pay for my divorce lawyer and that I could move back home for as long as I wanted to stay. And he told me he'd make certain that my mother didn't keep up the non-stop pressure on me to go back to Dickie."

"Did she? You told me about her buying you cookbooks and cookware and all of that--"

"She tried a few times, but I wasn't in the mood to listen to any of it--I was too angry. And my father stepped in, just as he'd promised me he would, and they had a hell of a row. First and only time I remember them arguing the whole 29 years they've been married. And that was the end of that: no more Dickie Orr pimping. Then I filed for divorce--didn't ask for a dime of alimony, either. I didn't want a damn thing from that bastard; I was just lucky I wasn't pregnant. And then I got a job buying lingerie at EE Martin, and saved up some money and finally got my own apartment. And Rex. My hamster."

"The Mighty Beast Protector of Your Planet."

"That's my fella."

"I'm sorry, Babe. I shouldn't have pushed it."

"You didn't push anything," I assured him, "I wouldn't have told you if I didn't want you to know."

"Not that," he said softly, "I meant, pushing for you to let me--"

"Don't you dare," I interrupted, "Do not even try comparing yourself with Dickie."

"You told me more than once you didn't want to do it, and I asked again anyway," he insisted, "I pressured you for it when I should have let it drop."

"The hell you did! First of all, you didn't know anything at all about my issues with Dickie and why I didn't want to--_let me finish_!" I hushed his protest, "It's not the same thing at all! We both agreed to put down our wildest fantasies, and the rules were that if either of us didn't want to do what the other suggested, we wouldn't have to. You gave me a few chances to say no to this one. I didn't take any of them, because I didn't want to take them. It kind of…excited me, to tell you the truth. But when you realized I wasn't into the spanking part of it, you stopped it immediately. You _did_, Carlos. And you didn't _hurt_ me anyway, for crying out loud! You didn't spank me hard, we both know it. It stung a bit for a minute or so; _big whoop_! I've stubbed my damned toe and hurt more. And you asked me if you could do it from behind and I agreed because I trusted you not to do what he did--and I was right to trust you. And, frankly--OK, I'm gonna admit it--it was much much…_much_…better than I thought it would be. As witnessed by my spectacular swoon--what did you call it? That French thing?"

"Le Petit Morte. The Little Death."

"My Doomsday Orgasm." I shook my head, "So hey, so much for me suffering greatly because you were being so selfish, right? You asked, I agreed, I'm glad I agreed. Hell, I'd agree the next time too. I'm not going to admit that last part again though."

"You're not?" I saw a smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

"OK, so maybe I lied: maybe I will admit it again. Here goes: it won't upset me greatly if you suggest doing it doggie style again." I gave him a soft smile, "The truth is, I can't imagine not enjoying anything we do together, Carlos. I wanted you from the moment I met you. Then we fucked, and it was incredible. Then we talked afterwards, and it was even more incredible. Then we fucked some more, and it got even better. And we talked even more, and it got even better than that. Then we made love….and it was the best it ever could possibly get. And every time we're together, it gets even more spectacular. Are you sensing a pattern here?"

"I love you, Babe."

"I love you, too, Superman. So please don't upset me by blaming yourself for doing something wrong. Because you haven't. And you won't. I trust you. For whatever crazy reason, I did from the minute I met you. Hell, you could have been a homicidal maniac for all I knew. And I left the bar with you without telling my friends. That sort of proves I trust you, huh?"

"Proves something," he teased.

"Can we drop this, please? I don't want to waste any more of our time on Dickie Orr or my mother or the Burg or what you think you should have known or done or said…I don't want to waste a minute we have together, Carlos."

"Neither do I, Steph. Every minute I get to spend with you is like gold. More than gold. Platinum. I can't believe how lucky I am to be with you. To have found you tonight of all nights."

We both knew what he was really saying: he still expected to die on that damned mission. I wasn't going to start that discussion again, though. There was no way to win that argument. The best I'd gotten out of him earlier was his agreement to rethink his 'we have no future' mandate; I wasn't going to push it again now for fear he'd repeat his fatalistic statement. That would destroy our remaining time together, and accomplish nothing but to make both of us miserable.

So I decided to change the subject instead.

"So what's the kinkiest thing you ever did in bed? Or out?"

"_Babe_."

"I'm asking because I want to know! Hey! I've been kidding you all night, calling you a kinky freak. I just want to know _how_ kinky a freak you are, Superman," I giggled, rubbing my hand on his chest, pinching his nipple to hardness.

"You've been kidding me all along? Here I thought you were serious."

"Answer the question."

"Kinda hard to top anything we did so far tonight, Babe. Particularly me as your dessert bar."

"That's dodging the question."

"You noticed that, huh?"

"I noticed, all right. Clearly you have a lot of experience. Much much more than I do."

"True."

"You've been with a lot of women."

"What's this really about, Babe?"

"Is there anything you want…I mean…I want you to…I want…"

"Babe."

"I want to make you happy, Carlos. If there's anything you want me to do that I'm not doing…anything…you know…._anything_…."

"You make me beyond happy, Steph. You make me happier than anyone ever has or ever could. Never doubt that, Babe. You're sweet and loving and funny and smart and brave. You're beyond gorgeous. Sexy as hell. Imaginative. You're a dynamo in bed. You are this perfect combination of angel and devil: the body of a sinner with the heart and soul of a Saint."

"Saint Stephanie; that's me."

"You've given me everything I ever wanted or hoped for, Babe. And not just phenomenal sex, either. You've given me _you_. All of you, no holding back. No protective barriers. Total honesty. Total acceptance. The whole package, Babe. There is nothing more you can give me than you already have--absolutely _nothing_. Understand me?"

I nodded, blinking back tears. I knew he was speaking from his soul, and I knew it wasn't easy for him to open up to anyone. "I just---"

"_No butt stuff_," he said primly. Then he looked over at me; and we both laughed.

"OK," I breathed easier, "If you're sure about that.."

"And no more spanking," he said. "And no tying you up."

"Good. Suits me fine."

"We could maybe do 'the _other _thing' again sometime," he mimicked my voice.

"Maybe." I grinned back at him.

"It was _OK._"

"It was, huh? Just _OK_?"

"Not _great_, though, you understand. Just better than I thought it would be."

"Bastard."

He laughed, pulling me closer. "You're fun to tease, Babe."

"I'm glad I entertain you," I sniffed, not offended in the least.

"I don't get to laugh very much at all. I'd forgotten how good it feels. Thanks for reminding me, Babe."

"You're welcome." I smiled, happy in the knowledge that I was giving him something no other woman had. After all, he could have met any other woman tonight, and been here with her instead of me. She--whoever she was--could be in his arms right now, instead of me…

"I'd have been long gone by now, if I'd been with anyone else," he said softly.

"I said that out loud again?"

"Nah, I can read your face, Babe. You're easy to read."

"Gee, thanks." I sighed.

"Only because I'm trained to pay close attention, Babe. And because I love looking at you. Memorizing everything I can about you so I can remember every single detail of you--of tonight--forever. Do you know that your eyes are the most beautiful shade of blue I've ever seen? Like the Caribbean Ocean on a sunny day. Just as much depth in there, too. They give you away every time." He stroked my hair tenderly, and took a deep breath, "I told you when we first met that I'd done this type of thing before. And I have--lots of times. In lots of cities over the years. But not _this _part of it, Babe. Not what we've done tonight. What we've shared. I meant, just picking up a woman for a few hours, spending the time fucking her and then leaving and never looking back. Just physical, that's all. No talking, no joking, no laughing. No cuddling afterwards."

"Really?"

"Really. I wouldn't have asked any questions about her. About her life, her family, her friends. Because it wouldn't have mattered to me. And I wouldn't have shared anything about myself with her, either. Nothing, Babe."

"You wouldn't have played the game with her?"

He smiled, "_Hell, no! _I made that one up just for you: I wanted to know what got you hot, what you always wanted a man to do….so I could be the man to give you all of it. I wanted you to remember me."

"You're serious?" I couldn't wrap my brain around that.

"I told you before: I spotted you when you went to the bar the first time with your red-headed friend. And I checked out the competition because I wanted you--_only you_--from that moment on. So I sat at the bar, had another beer and waited for you to come outside again. And I had the most detailed fantasies of what I wanted to do with you when I finally got you alone."

I grinned, "Omigod! You planned them all out when you were sitting there waiting at the bar for me? All of them?"

"Hard to cut them down to only six, Babe." He winked, "If you'd have had any difficulty coming up with six of your own, I'd have had plenty more to suggest."

"I like that," I could feel the goofy grin back on my face. "You never played this game with anyone else ever?"

"Never have, never will. Just with my Babe. And before you ask: I've never called any other woman 'Babe' either. I usually stick to 'honey' or 'sweetheart'."

"Why'd you call me Babe?"

"You looked in the mirror lately, Steph?"

"_Come on! _I'm not a dog, but I'm nothing special. You could have any woman you want."

"Probably," he admitted honestly, "But the point is, from the moment I first saw you, _you_ were the only one I wanted. By far. You got to me, Steph--you blew all the other women right out of the water. That's not a line, either. It's the God's honest truth. No, it wasn't love at first sight. But it was definitely lust at first sight--and some indescribable something more that no other woman had ever made me feel. No, Steph: no other woman would have gotten into my bed tonight. If you hadn't agreed, I'd have still been downstairs working like hell to get you interested in saying yes. And I wouldn't have quit trying until I did."

I bit my lip, hearing the sincerity of his words. "Wow! Who knew?"

He smiled, then kissed my forehead gently. "Who knew, indeed? And trust me: you're worth however long I'd have had to spend to get you here, Babe. Hours and hours and hours and hours."

"You know what Dickie said when I told him I wanted a divorce?" I'd never told anyone this: it had hurt too much. And I hadn't been quite sure I didn't believe it--until tonight.

"What did the prick say, Babe?"

"He told me I was a frigid bitch. And that I was a lousy lay. And that to get off when he was fucking me, he had to imagine I was any other woman."

I'd have expected any other reaction from Carlos but the one I got: he laughed out loud! I looked at him in stunned disbelief.

"Babe! You didn't--_please _tell me you didn't fall for that old chestnut!" He shook his head in amazement, "Steph! You _didn't_!"

I shrugged. "But--but--"

"If you were frigid why the hell would the bastard want to stay married to you? Hell, for that matter, why would he have wanted to marry you in the first place? Or stay in your bed so desperately that he'd haul you to a priest for counseling because you refused to sleep with him?"

"I don't know why Dickie did _anything_."

"Because Dickie--shit, I still can't believe a grown man calls himself _Dickie_--wanted to pay you back for walking out on his pathetic worthless ass. So he blamed you for his shortcomings, and tried to mess with your head so you'd stay with him instead of getting the hell out of a God-awful miserable marriage to a worthless piece of shit who isn't man enough to treat his woman the way she deserves to be treated. You aren't frigid, Babe. Anything but! Even your bakery buddy the poet knew that much. And I'll let you in on another secret: Dickie would _kill_ to have you back in his bed. Any man would--don't doubt that, either. Frigid! _Shit! _That's the oldest line in the world. I just can't believe you actually fell for it."

"You make me feel so good about myself, Carlos."

"You should feel good, Babe: you're an amazing woman. In every possible way. That you have even a doubt in your mind about that is what's really sad. And for that I blame your mother. I don't want to upset you by insulting her…but I have to say this much: she's just damned good and lucky she isn't around now for me to have a few words with. Wait! She's not going to this wedding thing tomorrow, is she?"

"No."

"Too bad. I'd have loved to stop in and have a little chat with her about insulting my woman."

"That's sweet. But she means well."

"No, actually, Steph, she _doesn't_. She's been undermining your self-confidence for years, and you've been sucking it up and letting her. Doubting yourself. Fighting a battle to stay true to yourself despite her…you wouldn't even have married the bastard if she hadn't pushed it. Isn't that true?"

I sighed. "Yeah. But that wasn't her fault, it was mine."

"It partly was. You need to learn to tell her to stay the hell out of your life, Steph. Don't let her pressure you or guilt trip you into settling for anything less than what you want. _You. _Not your mother. It's _your_ life, Babe. Life's too damned short to live it according to someone else's rules. I learned that the hard way."

"Now there's a story I want to hear."

Carlos sighed. "Let's just say that your mother and my father would get along very well."

"Tell me? Please?"

"_Babe_."

"I'm a good listener."

"I know you are." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I told you I have an older brother Alejandro. Three years older than me. And he's the apple of my father's eye. Always was, always will be. Alex can do no wrong. Not ever. He's perfect in every way there is."

"Like Valerie." I started tracing circles on his chest, completely wrapped up in his story.

"Yeah, Babe. Like your sister. Believe me, I understand exactly how you feel. I'm second generation Cuban-American. My father was an only child; his parents came over from Cuba when Castro took power. My grandfather started his own small business here, and my father was trained to follow in his footsteps. And when Alex and I came along, we were expected to step in and do the same. Do our duty. Make the family proud. Same with my sisters to some extent, but they were female. They'd grow up and marry, they wouldn't carry on the family name. So they didn't get the kind of pressure Alex and I did. From the time we were in grammar school, it was drilled into us what we were meant to do with our lives. What our future was going to be. Alex was fine with that; I wasn't. I hated the thought of it, and I wasn't shy about saying so. I didn't want that kind of life--too boring, too predictable. I wanted to be Superman, and save the world. So I rebelled. God, did I ever! I told you I got into every kind of trouble you could think of. Well, I wasn't exaggerating, Babe. You name it, I did it. Got into a gang, almost got killed in a knife fight one evening. Ended up in Juvie hall. My grandfather disowned me over that little episode; my father told me I was a disgrace to his name and kicked me out of the house for good. For the longest time the only ones who even spoke to me were my mother and my grandmother. Even my four sisters were totally disgusted by my conduct. Looking back now, I can't really say that I blame them."

"Carlos!" I saw the pain in his eyes, and he continued his story, lost in the past.

"After that, I went to live with my mother's sister and her family. By some miracle, I avoided going to jail--or getting myself killed. Then one of my closest friends died in a drive-by shooting, and I decided to get out of that gang life before I died too. So I pulled myself together, dropped out of school and joined the Army. I needed the discipline; I wanted the adventure. So it worked out well on both counts. I loved it, Steph. I felt like I belonged there. And I was good--I _am_ good--at my job."

"I know you are," I had no doubts about that at all. Carlos was a strong man; a born leader.

"I got training, I got to travel, to see the world. I made friends and they saw the me I always wanted to be--Superman. They accepted me as I was. I felt like I had a purpose in life: I was doing what I wanted to do, and I didn't have to compromise my dreams to do it."

"What about your family? Are you still..?" I didn't quite know how to ask the question without opening up old wounds.

"I was on leave visiting friends when I got a phone call from my mother. My grandfather had died of a heart attack on the job; he and I had never spoken again after he'd disowned me."

"I'm so sorry!" I hugged him closely, blinking back tears.

"Don't be, Babe. It was his choice, that's how he grew up: Old World. After all, I'd shamed his family in front of all of his friends and neighbors. Anyway, my grandmother told her son that enough damage had been done. Enough years had been wasted. She demanded he lift my banishment. She ordered me home for my grandfather's funeral, and I came. That time in the Army had changed me, Babe. In my father's eyes, that was a good thing. In my eyes, it was too: because I honestly didn't care whether or not he was willing to accept me. I knew who I was and what I was and what I wanted. And I knew I'd done the right thing to walk away from the life he'd wanted to push me into. Alex seemed happy; I'd have been completely miserable. I'd have been as good as dead in that kind of job. Anyway, we started the healing that day. Slowly. Very slowly. Four years ago, and we've come a long way since then. Alex and I finally started talking, and we worked out a lot of issues that had stood between us from the time we were children. Old resentments--on both sides."

"What was his problem with you?" I glared, "He had it good!"

"Not as much as I'd thought, Babe," Carlos said softly, "Turns out, when he finally opened up, he wasn't all that fine with things, after all. He liked the business, he could live that way. But it wasn't how he would have _preferred_ to live. He just didn't want to anger my father and my grandfather. To disappoint them by turning his back on what they'd spent their lives building. I realized that I'd resented him for being the Golden Child, when in actuality, it was more of a curse than a blessing for him."

"He didn't have to do what he did; he could have stood up to them, like you did." I argued.

"He could have," Carlos agreed, "And there would have been even more damage done to the family than was already done by my walking away. He did what he thought best. I did what I thought I needed to. We both made choices; hopefully they were the best choices for each of us. I guess we'll never know for sure until the last card is dealt. He's got a good woman and three healthy happy kids. And I---"

He trailed off. I knew what he was thinking. He didn't have a family of his own; he never would. He would go to war again come Monday, and he'd die for his country.

"It doesn't have to be that way," I whispered. "You don't know what the future holds, Carlos. No one does."

There was a long silence, and he held me closer and ran his fingers gently up and down my arm.

"I love you, Babe."

"I love you, too."

"So…."

"So?"

"So what are we going to do about it?" he asked softly, more to himself than to me.

That was the real question, wasn't it? What the hell were we going to do?

_Damned if I knew… _


	22. Chapter 22

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 22

_Carlos' POV_

"So what _are_ we going to do about it?" I mused, deep in thought. I sure as hell knew what I _wanted_ to do: I wanted to spend the next 50 or so years with Stephanie, every last breath of every last moment God gave us both on this Earth. I wanted to make her my wife. I wanted to make babies with her. I wanted to wake up every morning and look forward to another day of loving her, and to climb into bed every night and spend hours doing nothing but worshipping her for the Goddess she is. I wanted to do anything and everything in my power to make her happy, to support and encourage her to fulfill her dreams, to stand by smiling in pride when she finally realized she really was Wonder Woman, after all.

I wanted to put my ring on her finger and my baby in her belly. Right now; _tonight_. I wanted to give her my name, as I'd already given her my body and my heart and my soul. I wanted to stand on the highest rooftop and shout out my eternal love for Stephanie. To stake a claim on her in front of the entire world. That's what I _wanted _to do. But I _couldn't_. Not at this point in my life.

No, it wouldn't be fair to Stephanie to tie her down to me legally when I was about to disappear from her life for the next year and a half, at the bare minimum--if not longer. It wasn't as if I could tell her where I was going, either. Nor could I contact her in any way once my mission began on Monday. I couldn't give her any peace of mind at all while I was in the wind. None of that was possible: I was Delta Force.

Delta Force is the U.S.'s most elite tactical combat force, trained to the highest level in the military, with cutting-edge weaponry. Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta may share a headquarters in Fort Bragg, NC with the Army Special Forces, but we're light years away from the traditional Army. For starters, we have no uniform: we wear civilian clothes. We refer to ourselves as 'operatives', not 'soldiers'. Our members are recruited from all branches of the military then expertly trained as professional assassins and mercenaries.

We handle the most covert ops, the most dangerous missions, working as needed for the Army, the CIA and the FBI. We operate on the very fringes of all laws that govern the military. Funded from secret government accounts outside of any public scrutiny, we're answerable only to the President himself. Hell, Delta Force is so secret that we don't even formally exist! It's true. Since our inception in 1977, neither the government nor its military have ever officially acknowledged Delta Force in any written reports; they probably never will.

I'd told Stephanie I was in the Army, but only because there was no way I could explain to her what I really did in Delta Force. Still, she was smart: she'd noticed that I wore no uniform and that my hair was longer than the military standard. She probably had her suspicions what that meant. But she'd dropped the subject instantly when I asked, and for that I was more than grateful: I didn't want to evade her questions; I didn't want to lie to her. But there was no way I could talk about my job with her. I didn't even discuss it with my family, although over the years they'd realized the truth to varying degrees.

But it's a lot to drop on a woman on Friday night, marry her, and then disappear on Monday morning with no guarantee when or if you'll ever return. I couldn't do that to Stephanie, no matter how strong she is or how confident I am that we love each other deeply. It would be selfish. And she deserved better from me. So marriage was out of the question, no matter how much I wanted to offer it to her.

And I couldn't put an engagement ring on her finger and then leave her to face her family and friends alone. They--particularly her loud-mouthed shrew of a mother--would no doubt descend upon her like a swarm of angry locusts and demand to know how she could commit to marry a man she'd just met. A man she'd never dated or introduced to them. A man she'd never spent any time with outside of a hotel room, on what she'd probably end up confessing had started as a one night stand. Her reputation would be shot to hell then, courtesy of the gossip-mongers of the Burg.

She'd have to answer questions for which she could have no possible answers: what I did, where I was, when I was returning. She would have no answers to the most basic questions about who I was--other than what I'd told her--or who my family was. She'd never have met any of them, either. Hell, if it were my family member or friend in that position, I'd have tried to talk sense into them too! Stephanie didn't need more pressure put upon her, thanks to me; she already had far too much of that already. So an engagement was not an option, either.

And, reasonably, I shouldn't even let her offer any commitment at all to me right now: she was just coming out of a disastrous relationship, had been soured on men thanks to her prick of an ex-husband, and her self-confidence was at an all-time low. She'd just gotten her final divorce papers yesterday, she'd told me. She ought not to be making major decisions in her life at this time. Instead, she should be taking the opportunity to date in order to decide if she could foresee a future with another man who could offer her a more stable life than I ever could. It wouldn't be fair of me to keep her from doing that.

Her ex-husband. Damn! The thought of the hell that bastard Dickie Orr had put her through made me wish I had more time before I had to ship out: I'd have dearly loved to pay that piece of shit a personal visit and tear him apart limb by limb for laying hands on Stephanie. All of the emotional abuse he'd put her through was bad enough; but the story she'd told me about his attempt to anally rape her--and actually hitting her--that had angered me so much that I knew I couldn't let that slide. And I wouldn't.

I had some Army buddies who would be more than happy to do a favor for me: to introduce Dickie Orr to the concept of Payback, Carlos Manoso-style. Richard Orr, an attorney in Chambersburg. It had been a high profile divorce, she'd told me. He'd be easy to find, all right. I'd be seeing Manuel and Antonio and a few others tomorrow for breakfast; I knew they'd be more than eager to hunt the bastard down and make certain he was taught a lesson he'd never forget on how a woman should be treated.

As for Stephanie's mother….I wanted to track that bitch down, too, and rip her a new one for what she'd done to my Babe over the years. And what she _hadn't _done! If Stephanie hadn't been such a strong woman at the core, she'd have been totally destroyed by now by her mother's attempts to force her into life as a Burg Stepford wife. Living a miserable existence as Dickie Orr's punching bag--or worse. No longer even fighting back as he took what he wanted repeatedly. I remembered her words: _"He wanted to do it that way all the time--" _To think a mother would actually slam the door in her daughter's face when she came to her for help….would see everything from her own selfish narrow-minded perspective…I swore under my breath. Damn good thing the bitch _wasn't _coming to this wedding, because I'd have made it my business to guarantee that she'd hear what I had to say about her behavior as the Mother From Hell.

But that was the whole problem: I _wasn't_ going to be here after Monday. Not for 18 months, minimum--and that was if all went well. Which was expecting a miracle--and I'd been granted enough personal miracles over the course of my military career to last me ten lifetimes. I'd told Stephanie about the probability of 90% mortality in this up-coming mission. What I hadn't told her was why I was so firmly convinced that I would be in that 90% this time.

My last mission in Iraq had ended in a horrific bloodbath: most of my Delta Force team had died in front of my eyes when things were FUBAR'd by bad Intel and even worse luck. We'd stormed an enemy compound that, it turned out, was anything but unprepared for our arrival. Instead of being weakened by casualties, low on ammunition, and taken by surprise by our supposedly-overwhelming manpower, they'd instead been newly fortified by fresh highly-skilled troops with replenished top of the line supplies…and they'd massacred us.

I'd lost three of the closest buddies I had that day: the last of the guys I'd started Delta Force with on day one. We were closer than friends, we were brothers. And they were all gone. Almost 95% of our team hadn't made it out of there alive. The handful who did--myself included--survived only because we were literally standing in the right place at the right time. We were blocked from enemy sight by a concrete pillar that withstood the final barrage of bullets, affording us the opportunity to escape with our lives. We'd been able to cheat death by mere seconds. And you don't get that kind of luck more than once. Not even if you're Superman. That mission had been listed with a probability of 75% mortality. Not 90%. _Not 90%_….

"Carlos! Carlos! Where are you?"

I heard her voice, and followed it out of the dark place and back into the light. I saw her worried blue eyes watching me intently, and she breathed a sigh of relief when I pulled her close and brushed my lips on her forehead. "I'm here, Babe."

"You were so deep in thought there that I thought I'd lost you. Your eyes, Carlos…there was so much pain in them…"

"I'm back now, though. Back with you, Babe."

"You were there, though: on one of your missions. Weren't you? A bad one."

"There're all bad, Babe. All of them."

"Some are worse than others, right? And where you were this time was one of the worst ever. Really really bad."

"Yeah, really really bad, Babe. But I made the choice years ago. That's what I do. Who I am."

"It's what you do, Carlos, but it's _not_ who you are. This, right now, with me..._this_ is who you really are. Deep down inside in your soul. This man I'm holding right now, this is Carlos."

She was right. I sighed, "I'd almost forgotten who he was, Steph. It's been so damned long…"

"Do you want to talk about any of it?"

"I can't. Not about the mission. Any of them. Not the last one. Or the one to come. I shouldn't even have told you about the odds. I shouldn't have mentioned any of it."

"Top secret, I know. I understand, Carlos. I'm not going to press you anymore. I'm not going to whine or complain or bitch. I don't want to make it rougher on you than it already is."

"You haven't done any of that, Babe. No whining, no complaining, no bitching--"

"I was a total and complete bitch in the bathroom, haranguing you like a fishwife. I started a stupid fight with you for no real reason at all, Carlos. Remember? Just because you wouldn't give me an orgasm when I wanted one. How selfish is that? How ridiculous? You're facing death--literally--and I'm whining because I didn't get laid fast enough--"

"You think I didn't realize why that whole scene happened, Babe? You just had a nuclear bomb dropped on you minutes earlier. I pulled no punches with you: I was brutal about the reality of it all. I gave you no hope for us at all. None. You were still reeling, you were hurting like you never had before, you were on the edge--and you snapped. You're human. That happens, Babe. I understand exactly why you started that fight. What really caused it. Don't beat yourself up over it."

"But I failed you, Carlos. I hate that! I hate being weak and not being there for you when you need me the most. No wonder you won't give me a chance to--"

"_Failed me?" _I was stunned. "Babe? This isn't a test! I'm not grading you or sitting in judgment on how you handle things and using that as an excuse not to be with you when this damned nightmare is over! And you didn't fail me, Babe. Quite the opposite, in fact. If it were a test, you'd have passed with flying colors! You stood up to me when I was shutting down and pushing you away. You showed me how strong a woman you really are, Steph. The strongest I've ever met. The strongest I'll ever meet. You proved to me how much you love me--_really_ love me. How brave you are."

"I do love you, Carlos. But I'm not brave at all--"

"You _are_, Babe. More than you can possibly imagine. Any other woman would have gone to pieces over this. Run like hell and never looked back. But not you, Babe. You stayed strong and you fought back--and you got through to me with common sense when no one else could have. If I come through this, Steph, it's because of you. And _only_ because of you. Know that, Babe."

"_When _you come through this. _When_, Carlos. Not if. _When_. Because you _will_. You have to believe that. You have to think that way, to tell yourself that over and over--you _have_ to!" Her voice was firm, her expression beyond intense.

She was right, and I knew it: I had to have hope for the future--or I was already dead.

"_When _I come through this, Babe." I looked at her, her love for me and trust in me shining in her beautiful blue eyes--and I finally couldn't help but admit what was in my heart. I was tired of fighting the truth. "When this is over, Steph…I want a life with you, Babe! I want a future with us, and our kids, and grandkids one day, and everything I never thought I could have. Christ, Babe, _I want it so bad_! I want it more than I've ever wanted anything in my life."

And I _did_--I knew it deep in my soul, and I wanted my Babe to know it, too. To have no doubts at all how much she meant to me. How much I loved her and wanted her always. Damn it all! Whatever it took, I wanted to come home to Stephanie. _Whatever it took…_

She smiled then, a smile like I'd never seen before: it actually lit her up from deep inside. "You're saying _yes_ to us? Really, Carlos?" She sounded almost dazed. Incredulous.

I realized then that, in the end, she'd never really expected me to choose a future with her! She had offered it to me, had wanted me to take it, had hoped and prayed that I would. But she'd been prepared for me to walk away from her forever on Monday--and yet she'd stayed with me, regardless. Giving me all of herself. No holding back, no strings attached. Why? _Because she loved me. _No matter how painful it would be for her if I chose to leave her forever, she loved me enough to take that chance. How could I possibly love her any less than that? Risk any less? I _couldn't_. After all, I'm Superman!

I took a deep breath and made a solemn vow to both of us. "I'm saying more than yes, Babe. I'm giving you my word of honor: I will fight like hell to get back to you, Steph. I will crawl back on my hands and knees, I will drag myself back with my last breath if I have to. _Whatever it takes. _I will not give up, no matter what happens over there. No matter what they throw at me. Somehow, someway, I _will_ come back to you, Steph. I promise you that, Babe."

She was openly sobbing now, but her smile was absolutely radiant. It was all she'd ever asked for me to do: to be honest with myself and admit what I really wanted, and say so. To overcome my fear. To claim our future. She'd been right to call me on it. She deserved no less. _We_ deserved no less.

"It's going to be a long wait, though, Babe. 18 months at least. You can't sit around and count the days and put your life on hold until I walk back in the door and take you in my arms again. You can't do that, Babe. You have to make me that promise, Steph, or this thing with us won't work. I can't feel like I'm robbing you of the chance to live your life because you're waiting around for me to come back. That isn't fair to either of us. You need to give me your word."

"I promise. I don't have a choice, do I? I have to go on without you, I can't lock myself in my apartment with Rex for the next year and a half. I need to go to work. I have friends. I have my family. I'll live my life," she whispered, "But what I _won't_ do--what I won't promise--is to go out with other men. To get involved with someone else. I don't want anyone but you, Carlos. So I'm going to wait…_you know_…"

"I can't ask that of you, Babe. It's not fair."

"You're not asking. I'm telling you, this is my life and that's how I plan to live it. I have that right. I don't want another man. I want _you_. Only you. So we better make this weekend really count, because it's gonna be a long time before I…"

"Before _we_--"

"I'm not asking you to be faithful to me, Carlos. I don't expect that of you. It's different for men than it is for women. It just is."

"Not always, Babe. I don't want anyone but you, either. After what we've shared, there's no other woman who can come anywhere close to satisfying me anymore. That's just the way it is. I did the one night stand thing for years, and it's out of my system now, Babe. Completely. I can wait for what I want. And I want you, only you. And you can't tell me what to do about that any more than I can tell you what to do with your life."

"I'm not going to argue with that," she kissed me softly, "I don't want you with any other woman. But if you were--"

"I'm not going to be. Besides, where I'm going, trust me, Babe, there aren't going to be any opportunities I want to take. But you, that's a different story. You're young, you're beautiful, you're going to have so many opportunities and you're going to have needs, Babe--"

"Not happening, Carlos. It's just not. As for my needs…Monday afternoon as soon as I get home, I'm going straight to _Pleasure Treasures _and stocking up on their top of the line vibrator. All the bells and whistles. And that's the only sexual relationship I plan on having for the next 18 months or so. Unless I burn out the motor, in which case, I'll dump his ass and get a new one. I'm naming him the Wizard, by the way."

"Oh, you are, huh?" I laughed out loud, enjoying the wicked sparkle in her eyes.

"After this really amazing hunk who proved to me that a Doomsday Orgasm is not a myth. He sent me so far over the rainbow that I'll never be able to keep my feet on the ground again. He taught me how to fly."

"You already knew how to fly, Wonder Woman," I said softly, "The Wizard only reminded you of that."

"And I'm never going to forget it again, I promise you that."

"You can do anything you want with your life, Stephanie. Anything. No boundaries, Babe. No limits. You have the power inside you: you've always had it. You always will. Never settle for anything less than your dreams. _Yours_, Babe. Not your mother's. Not your sister's. Not the Burg's. Be who _you_ are, as strong and as brave and as smart and sexy and magnificent as you truly are. No compromises. No surrender. That's all I want you to promise me, Steph. Fight as hard for yourself as you're willing to fight for me. Dream big. Take the world by storm. Be Wonder Woman. Promise to do that, and I'll promise to come back to you, however long it takes. Do you promise me all that, Babe?"

"I do, Carlos. I promise. And in return, I want you to promise to always remember this moment right now. When we're lying in each other's arms, closer to each other than we've ever been to anyone in our lives, ever. When we're happier than we've ever been--or ever dreamed it was possible to be. With hours and hours of pleasure greater than we've ever known behind us, Superman; with many more hours still to come. When we trust each other totally and we're completely open and honest and speaking from deep in our hearts. When we know who we really are and what we really want. When we're willing to take the chance and wait for it, and not settle for anything less. When you're there in that dark place, when it looks like you aren't going to make it home and you're tempted to give up, I want you to take a deep breath, and remember us at _this very second_. And remember that I love you, Carlos, and I always will. That I'm waiting for you. And I need you back with me. Remember that deep inside you're Superman--and you _can_ find a way out of whatever it is, however bad things are. You keep fighting, and you keep the faith that we will have it all someday. Everything we want, we can have together. All of it. _Believe it_, Carlos. And then you come back to me, whatever it takes. Do you promise me that, Carlos?"

"I do, Stephanie. I promise. Lo que toma, prometo que volveré a ti, bebé." (_Whatever it takes, I promise I will come back to you, Babe_.)

"I love you, Carlos. And I'm so proud to be your woman."

"And I love you, Stephanie. And I'm even prouder to be your man."

We kissed slow and deep, and we made it last. Even though there was nothing legal about it, in my heart I married my Babe in that moment, with those words, with those promises. I knew from her face that she felt the same way. It was more than enough--it was everything. We were now one forever, from this day forward. _For better, for worse. For richer or for poorer. In sickness and in health. To love and to cherish. Forsaking all others. Till death us do part. _

As we broke the kiss, Stephanie sighed happily. Then her eyes widened. And she suddenly groaned.

"What is it, Babe? What's wrong?" I ran my finger over her cheek, and watched her flush.

"I bet I look God-awful now, don't I? My nose is probably all red and my eyes are too. And my damned hair probably looks--," she felt it and swore softly, "Shit, _I forgot_! I still have it in these idiotic pig-tails! I look like a clown, Carlos!"

"You look gorgeous, Babe. More beautiful than you can ever imagine."

"You haven't lied to me before--don't start now," she teased, sniffling. She climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom. "God, I'm afraid to look in the mirror."

"I'm not lying, Babe." And I wasn't. There's not a woman on Earth who'd have looked better to me than Steph. Not then, not ever. "Hurry back to bed, and I'm more than willing to prove it."

Steph appeared at the door of the bathroom, her hair now flowing loose around her shoulders, naked and unashamed. She was getting more and more comfortable with her naked body as the night went on. She knew I loved to look at her, and so she struck a provocative pose. "Ta-dah! All yours, Superman! What'cha have in mind?"

I gave her a big wolf grin. "Grab the bucket and bring it and you over here, and we'll find out. It's my turn to draw the next one. And I'm in the mood to do some serious Ruination, Babe."

"That sounds very promising: I'm in the mood to be seriously Ruined."

I pulled the folded paper out, and slowly opened it. I read it several times, and said nothing.

Steph watched curiously. "Well? Is it yours or mine? And is it a go? Or a no-go?"

"It's yours, Babe. I'm just trying to figure out what you expect me to do…."

"Um? Gee? Is it all that hard to understand?" she rolled her eyes, reaching for the paper. "How much of a mystery can it be? What have we been doing all night, Superman? Playing Monopoly? I want you to--"

She read the paper, and flushed. "Well, OK, so I admit, I was a little too vague with this one."

"You think so?" I raised my eyebrow questioningly. "4 words, Steph! Two of them being 'fuck me'."

Steph giggled, "This was the first one I wrote, actually. Before I got into the swim of things, as it were. I didn't make up any back story for this one--I just gave general directions. You can feel free to offer any additions or modifications you deem necessary along the way."

"Oh, so you mean I get to high-jack your fantasy this time?" I teased.

"Within reason," she decided, "After all, you were just telling me how many different ideas you had and how you had a rough time weeding them down to just six. Wasn't that you telling me if I needed any help coming up with fantasies, you'd be more than willing to offer suggestions?"

"It sure was, Babe. I've got tons of suggestions." And I did. My mind was rapidly considering all possibilities…and my cock was very interested in learning the final outcome of my decision.

"OK….then _surprise me_! I'm putting myself in your very capable hands, Superman. I'll even let you pick out my costume. How's that work for ya?"

It worked very well. Very well indeed. "Pick a dress you don't particularly like," I instructed her as I climbed out of bed and reached for my jeans.

"One I don't particularly like?" Steph looked at me in confusion. "I don't get it? Why would I do that?"

"Because I plan to rip it off you right before I fuck the hell out of you." I gave her a wicked smile. "And when I finish, there won't be a damned thing you can do to save it, Babe. Guaranteed."

"Oh boy," she grinned, "I think you've got the spirit of this one, for sure."

I looked down at the paper, grinning in anticipation.

Steph had written simply: _"Fuck me Caveman style." _

I was more than willing to oblige….


	23. Chapter 23

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 23

I checked myself in the bathroom mirror one last time, readying myself for my grand entrance as Tribal Princess Babe, the Virginal daughter of a Tribal Chief defeated in battle by the ferocious Chieftain Carlos of the Big Club Clan. Very Big Club Clan--the 11 inch Club Clan, to be exact.

Carlos and I had worked out a happy compromise on my official title: I'd demanded to be a Princess, whether or not Cavemen had them or not; and he'd finally agreed--once I'd suggested that name for his Clan. And provided glowing praise for how skillfully he used his very Big Club in action!

Once he'd discovered that I owned a baby doll nightie--with matching thong panties--in an animal print, Carlos had immediately scrapped his original plan for the fantasy. Instead of a dress, I was now scheduled to have said nightie ripped off my terrified virginal body before being taken primitively by the lustful Chieftain. I had no complaints whatsoever: I didn't care _what_ the hell he tore off me, so long as I got a few Carlos-induced orgasms out of the deal!

There were apparently _many_ types of Caveman-style sex available in his expansive and creative repertoire, in all historical time-periods from 10,000 B.C. to 2525 A.D. All of them seemed to have one thing in common, though: they all required me to play a terrified Virgin. 'Chieftain Carlos and his prisoner Tribal Princess Babe the Virgin' may have replaced 'Pirate Captain Carlos pillaging the Royal Navy's ship and capturing the Governor's Virginal daughter Stephanie', but I was still keeping my virginity in the fantasy--albeit temporarily.

Clearly the whole terrified Virgin thingturned him on mightily--although I suspected that once said Virgin got a look at the enormous 11 inch club Chieftain Carlos possessed, she was rapidly going to morph from terrified Tribal Princess Virgin Babe into Tribal Princess Nympho Slut Babe in about 1.1 nano-seconds. My input on the Virgin aspect of things, however, was over-ruled by my kinky lover, who had indeed high-jacked my fantasy with a gusto!

He was grinning wickedly as he detailed my back story for me; and I have to admit, I was more than looking forward to it! I assumed he'd be wearing the usual towel: somehow jeans just wouldn't cut it for a Chieftain. But I had every confidence that he'd be losing his costume just as quickly as I lost mine: Tribal Princess Babe, virgin though she might be, was--unknown to Chieftain Carlos--fabled in her village for her quick hands!

Thanks to some very creative use of my eye pencils, I'd managed to draw some tribal markings on my face in various colors and designs. Yes, I have to admit--I looked pretty damned good as a Tribal Princess! Of course, I don't know of any Tribal Princesses who wore 4 inch black stiletto heels--but Carlos was adamant: Tribal Princess Babe was wearing those FMPs, and that was that. What can I say? The man apparently had a shoe fetish as great as my own….it boded well for our future together. I certainly wasn't going to have to fight him over closet space for my huge shoe collection!

At the thought of sharing a future with Carlos, my face broke into a goofy grin. I still couldn't believe he'd changed his mind so quickly and so determinedly. He'd given me far more than I ever could have hoped for. Not only had he admitted that he wanted me in his life after Monday, he'd gone above and beyond that: swearing a solemn vow that, no matter what it took, he would find a way to come back to me! I knew it had been a huge step for him to take--and I'd been walking on air since the minute he'd said those words. Then we'd made heart-felt promises to each other that made me tear up every time I thought of them. To me, they were just as binding as wedding vows; I knew he felt the same way. In our hearts, we were now man and wife in every way that mattered.

Additionally, he'd finally come to the realization that he needed to make a serious attitude adjustment before he left on his mission Monday. He had to firmly lock into his head that he _would _survive: to never doubt it for even a minute. Positive thinking was the key, I was certain. I knew damned well that if he didn't believe he would live, he'd fulfill his own prophecy and die on that mission…and I couldn't bear to lose Carlos. I loved him too much!

And he was waiting for me now! Why was I still standing _here_?

"Ready or not, here I come," I told my reflection, fluffing my hair. Then, taking a deep breath, I stepped out into the next room. And almost fainted dead away.

Holy Moly Mother of God! The man had gone full out with _this_ fantasy costume! Apparently Chieftains of the Big Club Clan didn't wear _towels_ as loincloths. Nope: gone was the now-familiar costume of the Wonderful Wizard of Ahhhs. Instead, Carlos sported a loincloth that had been fashioned from fabric.

Fabric? Where on Earth had _that _come from? It looked very familiar, somehow! I blinked, deep in thought--then the answer suddenly struck me. _Oh shit! _He'd torn up one of the _pillow cases_, and now wore it tied loosely around his waist!

Well, it _had _been loose, anyway: once he saw me in my little barely-there leopard print nightie--the miniscule thong visible underneath diaphanous chiffon--that loin cloth of his wasn't fitting quite so loosely anymore. I could definitely see the Big Club starting to rear its more-than-impressive head…..

Geez Louise! The maid was going to have a field day with this! Gooey dessert-covered sheets stripped off the bed. Tons of used XXL condoms in the bathroom trash. A ripped-to-shreds pillowcase. A bed that looked like a cyclone had hit it--_repeatedly_. God only knows what _other _damage we'd do before we finally finished our creative and totally incendiary sexual marathon! Guaranteed: the kinky slut in room 407 and her mysterious well-hung boyfriend would be the major topic of conversation among the maids later today! I wasn't _ever _going to be able to stay here at this hotel again: I'd be too afraid my name would be on the '_gotta get a look at this freak_' list I'm sure all hotel maids keep somewhere.

And it was a damned good thing this wasn't a hotel anywhere near the Burg, or otherwise my mother would _definitely_ have gotten a phone call with all of the sordid details of tonight's XXX-rated encounter in mere hours. Then I'd be cut off from dessert for life! 18 months of no Carlos…with no sugar-laden desserts to distract me, or keep my rampant Hungarian hormones under control! I'd never make it through that drought! _Never! _

I saw my lover's hungry eyes slowly slide over my body, and allowed my own eyes similar license to examine him in explicit detail. Damn, he was one absolutely magnificent hunk of man! And he was all _mine_. Not just for one night, not just for the weekend…but for the rest of our lives! Once that damned mission was over and he came back to my arms, that is. I pushed firmly out of my mind the unpleasant thought that there would be other missions on other days--Stephanie Plum was not only Tribal Princess Babe, she could be Queen of De-Nial, too! Besides, I could only worry about one thing at a time. And this mission was all I could deal with right now!

It would be 18 of the longest months of my life, but it would all be worth it in the end. I, Stephanie Plum--who demanded _immediate gratification_ in all things--was going to be forced, in one of the supreme ironies of the Universe, to finally learn the difficult lesson that all good things are worth waiting for! And I'd learn it, all right. Because he was. We were. And I'd wait however long it took to have Carlos back in my arms where he belonged.

He stalked toward me like a panther that'd scented his prey, a feral gleam in his now-almost-obsidian eyes. I licked my lips in nervous excitement and waited for my cue to speak. Playing my role, I lowered my gaze shyly and looked as virginal as possible…and instead found myself staring fixedly at the rapidly-rising tent in his loin cloth.

_Oops! _Virgins aren't supposed to drool lustfully at 11 inch big clubs! I tried another approach: widening my eyes in terror, I clutched my arms protectively over my breasts and my doodah. That seemed to me much more appropriate virginal behavior than eagerly ogling the ever-increasing angle of that rapidly-rising 11 inch big club….

"Me Carlos," he grunted, beating his muscular mocha latte colored chest with a firm fist.

"Me Babe," I whispered timidly, tapping myself with a slender finger, and then backing away until I was trapped against the wall.

"Babe all _MINE_," he growled, his low husky voice sounding like pure liquid sex. "Babe is Carlos' woman; his mate."

Oh boy, was I ever! _Mating_ sounded more than fine right now: naked sweaty hot primitive totally incendiary mating. Sign this Tribal Princess up for that, for damned sure!

I licked my lips in anticipation of what I knew was about to happen, allowed myself to peek one more time at the umm…_Club_...and then went back to my role-playing. "Babe _scared_," I batted my eyes helplessly, "Carlos _ferocious_!"

"Carlos muy feroz," he agreed proudly. "Muy macho."

OK, so apparently he was a _Cuban_ caveman! That worked out just fine for me: I thought Carlos sounded hot as hell when he spoke Spanish. I was definitely going to enjoy the audio as well as the video on this one!

"Babe a virgin," I said. "Never had man…._ever_." I looked as fearful as I could possibly manage, given that I was ready to rip the damned loincloth off and fuck his brains out right then and there. I told you the terrified Virgin thing was a big stretch for me acting wise, didn't I?

He nodded. "Carlos fuck Babe real good," he promised, leering at me wickedly. "Carlos pound Babe hard. Make her scream loud." He smacked his fist noisily against his palm a few times to demonstrate his proposed technique.

_Eep! _What the hell was a Virginal Tribal Princess expected to say to _that_?? Flustered, I gave it the old college try, as Carlos just smirked. He was so loving this!

"But Babe so _tiny_," I pointed to my doodah. Then I pointed to his crotch and widened my eyes in fright, "And Carlos very _big_!"

A big wolf grin. Another understanding nod. "Carlos have Big Club. Long. Thick. All for Babe. Fuck her good. Make Babe very happy woman."

He sure would. I could testify first-hand to all of this. Oh, boy, could I ever! This was a very honest Caveman, all right! Babe could certainly trust him to put a smile on her Virginal Tribal Princess face….

As I desperately tried to come up with my next scintillating foray into Caveman Conversation 101, I couldn't resist lowering my eyes once again to check out the impressive progress of his erection. _Wow! _All 11 inches were definitely firmly locked and loaded into position by now, from the height of the tent he was sporting under that loincloth. _Omigod!! _

Before I thought of my next conversational volley, Caveman Carlos took charge of the conversation once again.

"Carlos really horny. Babe incredibly hot. We fuck now," he announced, then made a lustful grab for me.

That was my cue! My 4 inch FMPs and I made a desperate run for it, in full virginal terror-mode--with Carlos in hot pursuit. He chased me around the hotel room, both of us getting more turned on from the pursuit than I'd imagined possible. Not that I was trying too hard to get away, you understand. Just enough to make things very interesting for both of us! And was it ever!

I grabbed a few throw pillows from the bed on my way past, and pelted him with them playfully as I maneuvered the chair between us. He growled in mock fierceness and batted the pillows away easily, his eyes obsidian with lust as he stalked relentlessly towards me with the eye of the tiger.

"Babe all _mine_!" he proclaimed, "Can't get away from Carlos."

"Babe is _Princess_," I reminded him, "Belongs to no man."

"No man but _Carlos_," he corrected me. "Babe is Carlos' chosen mate."

"Really? Then Carlos must _catch _Babe first," I taunted, lunging suddenly for the door. I got there, but never got the door open. Just as I reached for the doorknob, Carlos grabbed me by the forearm, spun me around and roughly pushed me backwards, trapping me against the door, his muscular almost-naked body pressed tightly against mine. I felt his rock-hard length against my belly, a rush of heat shooting through my body at the thought of how little material now separated us.

It was all I could do not to rip the damned loincloth right off him then and there, and turn the fantasy into 'Insatiable Slut Tribal Princess Babe strips Chieftain Carlos naked and rides him like he's a mighty Mammoth'. I resisted the temptation mightily: I was trying out the whole _delayed gratification _concept, after all.…but damn, I wanted him and I wanted him bad! And that thin little strip of pillow case wasn't hiding a whole hell of a lot of what he had to offer. Holy Moly, he was rock-hard and totally totally gigantic--and I remembered all too well what he was capable of doing when he was buried deep inside of me!

Silently, those incredibly dark eyes locked with mine, he raised both of my arms above my head, pinioning them there firmly. I shivered in arousal as he leaned his body into me, his deliciously sensual mouth hovering over mine.

"Consider yourself _caught_, Princess Babe," he whispered, his voice husky with lust.

Oh yeah: caught I surely was! "Now what?" I swallowed, trying in vain to control my now-pounding-out-of-control heartbeat and the wetness pooling down between my legs.

A big wolf grin. "Now Carlos strips Babe totally naked. Then fucks Babe really hard!"

"Yes, please," I licked my lips, feeling my temperature skyrocketing. What this man could do to me!

"You're supposed to be terrified, Babe," he reminded me with just the slightest of smirks. "Especially now that I've captured your luscious little virginal body, and am preparing to ravish you to unconsciousness."

"I _was_ terrified: I _ran_, didn't I? Now I'm getting over it," I defended myself weakly. God, he smelled so good! I was such a little Slut Princess; I couldn't even summon up a modicum of interest in fighting him off.

"Not yet you're not, Babe. You're still supposed to fight me off. We agreed."

"But I'm too distracted to fight anymore," I whined shamelessly, "You're practically _naked_, Carlos! And I'm really horny."

That brought a 200 watt smile, "Babe--you're _always_ horny."

"I can't help it," I insisted, "It's my Hungarian hormones. I can't fight you off unless I have some…_incentive_. Something to take the edge off my cravings."

"Really? _Incentive_, huh? MMMM. Let's see what we can do for our hot and hungry little Tribal Princess," he said softly, "But I expect a hell of a struggle after this…." He shifted his body so that his naked and very muscular thigh slid between my legs.

Greedily, I immediately pushed myself down onto it, lifting one of my legs and wrapping it around him to pull his tight hard body even closer. I began undulating, riding his leg with abandon as I felt the heat building in my nether regions and shooting outward through my body.

He kept my arms pinned over my head, and watched me intently as I frantically rubbed my now swollen clit against his muscular thigh. I was moaning happily, enjoying the incredible sensations that were rippling through my body….

"Damn it, Babe!" he groaned, "Have some mercy! You make me want to take you right here and now!"

"Then why don't you?" I invited, grinding myself even faster as I felt the orgasm approaching rapidly, "Omigod! It feels so fucking gooooood."

"Because it'll be even better after we've…._played_ a bit," he leaned in and nipped at my mouth with a series of slow scrumptiously enjoyable kisses. "You need to develop some discipline, Babe. Learn to wait and you'll enjoy it even more."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I chanted, my attention focused completely on the orgasm that was just starting to shake my body, "OMIGOD!OMIGOD!" I let myself go, and threw my head back as I cried out in delight. My body shattered, and I watched Carlos' black eyes sparkle wickedly. So much for delayed gratification! I was clearly _never_ going to get the hang of that concept--at least where a Carlos-induced orgasm was involved.

"Enjoy yourself there, Princess?" he teased, a wicked sparkle in his eyes.

"You know damned well I did," I purred, "Not as much as I would have with your cock buried deep inside me, though…."

"You're all flushed now," he whispered, "Dios, Querida! I love knowing I can do that to you."

"You could do even _more _for me," I wiggled against his rock-hard length, "And I could do a lot for you too…."

"In due time," he laughed softly, "But first, you owe me something in payback, remember?"

"This really gets you off, doesn't it?" I teased, rubbing against him, enjoying the closeness both physical and emotional. I'd never felt this connected with anyone in my life, and I knew I never would be with anyone else. "I could always remind you that this is _my_ fantasy, Carlos…."

"Which is why you got your incentive without any argument from me," he returned, "And why you're going to get a few more special incentives before we get to the big finish."

"More special incentives, huh? Well, I like the sound of that," I grinned, "Do we still have to do the whole 'me Tarzan you Jane' conversation shit? Because that's really getting old."

"You were the one who said you wanted Caveman style sex," he reminded me, nuzzling my neck and dropping hot wet kisses along the length of my neck. "You've changed your mind now, Babe?"

"Not about the sex," I assured him, moaning as I arched my neck to give him better access. "I'm liking that part just fine. And I totally love your costume. Especially since I can feel every solid inch of that really gigantic club you got going on down there, Caveman Carlos."

"All for you, Princess Babe," he growled, launching into another dizzyingly enjoyable round of kisses, this time down my neck and around my shoulder blades and up the other side of my neck. "Every inch of it all especially for you."

"Damn! You really know how to kiss," I admitted, allowing myself to surrender to his very expert mouth, "You are far and away the best kisser on the planet." And he was: Carlos could kiss better than other men could fuck. And he could fuck better than….oh, God, I was getting desperate for release yet _again_! "You are the best ever, no other man comes close. You're magnificent!"

"Glad to hear it," he laughed quietly, his kisses growing more intense as he approached my mouth. "Especially since I'm the _only_ man who'd better be kissing you for the rest of your life."

"You will be," I guaranteed, surrendering to another wave of completely intoxicating kisses that had me purring in delight. "I swear I could come from kissing you alone."

"Oh, so you don't need me to fuck you anymore? Wow, that little incentive must really have worked miracles, then," he teased, his lips launching a campaign to drive me completely insane with pleasure. The feel of his mouth on my breasts through the sheer fabric was like nothing I'd ever felt!

"Omigod, omigod, omigod," I moaned, dizzy with satisfaction, "Don't stop! Don't you dare stop now!"

He pressed me closer into the door, and I felt his hot breath in my ear as he whispered some things in Spanish that--_whatever the hell they were_--certainly got my temperature spiking. Then he moved his mouth upwards again, nipping at my earlobe, running his tongue slowly down my neck, sending his burning lips in hot pursuit moments afterwards.

I was dripping wet by this time, and began fighting for real: not to get away, mind you, but to get my hands free so that I could wrap them around him and never let go.

"That's it, Babe," he groaned happily as I began squirming against him, "Just like that, Babe! _Perfect_!"

Maybe he had a good idea with this whole struggling thing, after all? It felt absolutely _phenomenal_: our bodies grinding together, our skin touching intimately. Plus if I moved just right, I could probably push that damned piece of fabric off that particularly magical part of his body….

I leaned into him, snaking my leg around his thigh again, and undulated purposefully against his hard length, "Let me go, damn it! Take your hands off me, you macho beast! I am a Princess, I belong to no man."

"You don't sound too scared there, Princess," he grinned, "But I'm appreciating the effort anyway. Feels damned good!"

"Hard to sound terrified when I can't wait to have every inch of you deep inside my pussy," I admitted. "I am so fucking wet for you, Carlos, you have no idea!" I squirmed more enthusiastically, causing both of us to draw pretty ragged breaths. Oh, yeah: this struggling thing was definitely one of his best ideas yet! And although Caveman Carlos may have started out this fantasy firmly in the Stone Age, thanks to my fighting he was now definitely in the Bronze Age: so far beyond rock hard that I was flooded with wetness just thinking about what he would feel like pounding inside of me.

"You're wet for me, Babe, huh?" he nipped at my bottom lip, then sucked it roughly.

"Maybe I need to check that part out for myself right now."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I agreed, as he let one of his hands release my wrists and began a slow torturous journey down my arm. His fingers traced my face, my lips, my throat, skimming over my breast and teasing my hard pebbled nipple through the nightie until I cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. "Carlos! _Hurry_!!"

"Not quite yet, Princess," he dived in for another round of punishing kisses, "I'm still toying with my beautiful new plaything…."

"If you don't fuck me soon, I swear to God, Carlos, I'm going to lose my mind!" And I was. I was so hungry for him it was frightening.

"Maybe you need another incentive right about now?" he offered, his hand having finally completed its long journey over my breast, my quivering belly, and now resting on my hipbone. "Maybe something like _this_. What do you think, Princess?"

In a flash, his fingers had hooked the delicate fabric of my thong and torn it away from my body. I felt it drop to the floor only seconds before he plunged three long fingers deep into my hot hungry pussy. Oh, dear God in Heaven, I damned near came right on the spot!

"¡Usted es absolutamente empapado - tan mojado no puedo creerlo! ¿Es esto todos para mí, Bebe?" (_You are absolutely drenched--so wet I can't believe it! Is that all for me, Babe?_)

His fingers began to move inside me, thrusting in and out as his thumb tormented my clit. His eyes were flashing wickedly, knowing just how out of control I was, and clearly loving the power he held over me. "You might want to struggle some more right now, Princess--I guarantee you'll enjoy the results."

"I can hardly stand," I whispered, my voice tremulous, "Let alone fight. Feels so gooooooood! Omigod!"

"I'll hold you up, Babe," he promised, "Just move for me, I want to watch you fall to pieces again. Do it, Babe--dance on my fingers! Take what you need!"

I bit down on my lip to keep from screaming, and began to frantically grind myself into his hand, riding his fingers as he began to quicken their pace, finger-fucking me senseless. It was so damned good I was gone in seconds, and I threw back my head and let my body explode, knowing he would keep me upright.

That brought forth another low husky stream of Spanish, and still more hot burning kisses. I sighed blissfully, "You're a Sex God, Carlos. I have never in my entire life enjoyed anything more than I've enjoyed tonight!"

A wolf grin flashed back at me, "And we're nowhere near finished, Babe. We've got so much still to do…I'm just getting started with you. And that's just for tonight. Tomorrow we'll buy _another_ box of condoms and we'll start all over again. With some brand new ideas. All very XXX rated. How's that sound?"

_GULP. _It sounded pretty fucking fantastic to me. If I didn't drop dead of pleasure before then, that is. _Can a woman actually die from too many orgasms?? _I guess I was going to find out!

"Just Le Petit Morte, Babe. And you can handle that just fine," he laughed softly.

"I said that out loud again, huh?" _Me and my big mouth._

"Uh-huh. You and that big mouth indeed. And the things you can do with that big mouth…." His eyes darkened as he again slid his fingers into me and started stroking me slowly, "Ride my fingers again, Princess. Show me you're ready to take my cock."

Oh, yeah, was I ever ready for _that_! I ground against him with delicious abandon, taking my pleasure again as I did some nibbling of my own on his sensual lips. I wasn't gentle with my kisses, either: I was trying to make that iron control of his snap. And he knew it, too.

"You like _that_?" he teased, his thumb settling determinedly upon the magic nub that launched those dozens and dozens of orgasms I'd enjoyed throughout the evening. "How about _this_? You like _this_ better?" His one finger slid out of my pussy, still drenched in my juices, and joined his thumb in a determined assault against my clit. "Then I think you're really going to like…_this_."

He squeezed my clit suddenly, and I shuddered, my inner walls clenching around his two fingers as another even more powerful orgasm started rippling through me. To my shock, Carlos stepped back and released my wrists, finishing up with his fingers in a dizzying flurry of motion that sent me into another amazing wave of orgasms. Then his now-freed hand slashed out suddenly, tearing my flimsy nightie straight down the front--completely shredding it in one powerful motion. The leopard-spotted chiffon floated languidly down to the floor, leaving my heaving breasts exposed to Carlos' licentious gaze.

"And now comes the next part….one we're both going to enjoy even more than this," he growled, his voice rough and dangerously sexy.

"Fuck me!" I begged, my voice coming out in a breathy whimper. "Please _fuck me_!"

He grinned, his look feral, "Not quite yet, Princess. First I have something else in mind for you."

"What are you---" I didn't even get the question out before he fisted his hand into my hair and pulled me roughly to him, then lowered his mouth to utterly devour mine, his tongue driving inside and expertly plundering my mouth. His other hand kneaded my breast, rolling my nipple and causing me to moan loudly with pleasure before he slipped his hand down to cup my ass and press me tightly against his hard body.

Lightheaded, I swooned, wrapping my arms around his well-built shoulders and digging my nails tightly into his back to pull him closer. No question: Carlos was playing his caveman role to the hilt--all I needed now was to be dragged by the hair back into his den and ravished within an inch of my life! And I was more than willing….

Seconds later I was airborne, _literally_: tossed easily over his muscular shoulder in a fireman's carry, his one hand firmly cupping my ass as he strode determinedly over to the bed, his other hand stroking my legs.

"Omigod!" I yelped as I was tossed down on my back with a thud, hitting the featherbed. I watched wide-eyed in stunned incredulous excitement as he grabbed my ankles and firmly pulled me down along the bed until I was carefully positioned exactly where he wanted me: my butt barely resting on the mattress, my legs spread apart and angled upwards towards my shoulders. He grabbed my arms and wrapped them around my legs so that, in effect, I was holding my legs wide open to his view. I couldn't even formulate words, I was so turned on!

This had definitely _not_ been part of my fantasy…but I was more than willing to admit that his improvisations had taken my original '_fuck me Caveman-style_' into spectacularly new dimensions of pleasure!

"Time for your _next_ incentive, Princess," he rasped, kneeling on the floor at the edge of the bed, "And this one is even better than the first." He reached up and grabbed my stilettos, tossing them off carelessly, "Not going to risk maiming by the shark-killer, Babe," he explained, "We're going to get very…._enthusiastic_ here in a very few minutes. I happen to be a very voracious feeder. Shark-like in intensity, you might say. And I'm very very hungry for some soft succulent pussy. Hot and sweet and tremendously juicy--just the way I like it."

Oh. My. God.

"Carlos---" I could barely formulate English by now.

"Legend says that Babe, the Tribal Princess of the Juicy Pussy Clan, possesses the most addictive honey a man can ever taste…once she is finally awakened sexually. I think we can safely assume she's wide awake now, can't we?"

We definitely could.

"So now it's time for me to test the veracity of that legend. All that delicious honey…only for _me_! Time for me to eat my fill--and I'm a very greedy man!"

His head disappeared between my legs and he began to completely devour me mercilessly. I had been utterly pleasured by The Wizard of Ahhhs for almost an hour, but clearly slow and teasingly soft was not on Caveman Carlos' agenda for tonight. Hell, at the rate his hungry mouth was going, I would be insane with pleasure and ready for the asylum in just minutes.

The man was _ferocious_, completely and totally savage in his enjoyment of my now pulsating hot pussy. His tongue laved over me, slicing up and down the inside of my thighs, before his lips began sucking me into such a state of delirious excitement that I was now waving my legs around in a dizzying frenzy like whirligigs in a windstorm. He'd been very smart to divest me of those killer stilettos!

I arched my womanhood into his face, throwing back my head and wailing in delight as his mouth finally settled on my pussy lips and his fingers now joined in the party. My head tossed from side to side, my eyes rolling back in my head, and I made sounds that weren't even remotely human. I came over and over again as he continued his campaign to drive me completely out of my mind.

He came up for air a few times, muttering Spanish in a deep husky voice. Unable to be without him for long, I released my hold on my legs to try to grab his head and push him back down where he belonged. Instantly, he slammed my hands back in place, using his wrists to lock mine into place, none too gently, before he resumed his frenzied feeding. I had never seen Carlos this completely out of control, this primitive, even when we'd fucked before. Dear God, he was _insatiable;_ I was sobbing in transports of delight I'd never before experienced.

I remembered for a minute that he'd asked in his first fantasy for me to fight him as a Intergalactic prisoner of war, and I'd messed it up when I balked at being tied up. Clearly the man got off mightily when he was in total control sexually….although he'd been more than willing to cede that control to me more than once in my dominance fantasies. But he was a true sexual dynamo right now, and I was his more-than-willing victim….

As the latest in a seemingly never-ending wave of orgasms finally subsided, Carlos gave my still-throbbing pussy one last kiss and then stood, his eyes triumphantly surveying the quivering mass he'd reduced my poor body to. "Still with me for the big finish, Princess?" he teased, tearing off his scrap of a loincloth to reveal the sight I'd been waiting for this entire fantasy. It was more than worth the wait!

DAMN! I'd sworn that he was 11 inches, but what I was looking at now rivaled the mythical 15 inches Raoul had been sporting in my earlier verbal attempts to spur Carlos' jealousy! He was harder than I'd ever seen him, and my eyes widened to the size of saucers as I locked onto his most impressive asset. "OMIGOD!" Either he'd grown a few inches, or I was now too damned delirious to be trusted to distinguish reality. Whichever it was, I was about to be a very very happy woman once again!

He reached over and picked up the condom, tearing the wrapper and dressing himself as his black lust-filled eyes locked with mine. "You're so beautiful," he rasped. "And I love you so much."

I swung my arms in back of me and scrambled backwards on the bed. Then I held out my arms in open invitation. "I love you, too," I whispered, my voice so husky I could barely recognize it. "But if you don't fuck me right _now_, Carlos, I swear to God, I'm going to lose my mind. _Do it_! Please!"

He came into my arms without another word. Seconds later he plunged inside me, burying his cock to the hilt in my hot hungry pussy, as he leaned his weight on his forearms and pushed my arms over my head. He didn't give me even a second to adjust to his enormous size: I honestly don't think either one of us could wait a second more, by this point.

His mouth hovered over mine, not touching, his eyes burning fiercely into mine. "Nunca habrá nadie para mí, pero usted, Estefanía. Usted es mi vida. Usted es mi corazón. Usted es mi alma. Usted es todo a mí. That means: there will never be anyone for me but you, Stephanie. You are my life. You are my heart. You are my soul. You are everything to me."

"And you to me. This is forever," I vowed, "We belong to each other from this night on, Carlos. No matter what. No matter how long it takes until you come home to me. Take me now, as if it were the first time. Make me a part of you. Make me your mate, your woman. Forever."

"Mi compañero, mi mujer, _mi esposa_. Para siempre." (_My mate, my woman, my wife. Forever.) _Carlos took my mouth with a searing kiss as he began to move inside me. I wrapped my legs around his waist and met him thrust for thrust as our tongues danced, the pleasure becoming so intense that I honestly thought I couldn't last a second longer. We broke the kiss only to breathe, then our mouths found each other again. I fought him, as he'd asked, but only to free my hands so that I could wrap them around his powerful back and pull him closer. I needed him inside me, flesh to flesh, a part of my body, as he had already become a part of my heart and my soul. It was beyond anything I'd ever felt, anything I'd ever imagined possible. I dug my fingernails into his back and held on for the ride of my life.

I honestly lost count of how many times I came, each more intense than the one before, but the final one was so shattering that I literally saw stars before I convulsed, the languor then sweeping through my body as if I were pitched out of the ocean's waves and onto a sandy beach. I lay breathless and spent. Carlos gave a loud cry that seemed to come from deep inside him, then rolled off me.


	24. Chapter 24

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 24

We were lying on our backs, not touching, just staring at the ceiling. It took me a long time to find my voice, but when I did, I didn't even sound like myself. I was actually _purring_! I mean, an honest to God breathless _just-had-the-best-fuck-of-my-life_ purr that resonated in the silence of the hotel room. "Are you still alive over there, Caveman Carlos?" .

He still hadn't moved a muscle since he'd fallen in place. I think he'd had his own Doomsday Orgasm: his face looked almost shell-shocked. But gorgeous. Carlos was _always_ gorgeous. And after a few minutes he also seemed to be fully conscious again. He answered me with a low husky groan, "Just barely hanging on, Babe."

I purposely kept the conversation light: I felt connected to him in a new way, and somehow I knew that the last thing Carlos wanted to do was to continue the intense conversation we'd shared at the moment of our joining. I was part of him, his woman. And he was my man. It was enough for me, and I knew it was for him, too. Now it was time for lightness, for more flirting

"That's some Big Club you're carrying there, Chief. And you used it perfectly: I'm one _very _satisfied Tribal Princess, thanks to you."

He sighed deeply, then smiled, drawing me into his powerful arms, "No thanks needed, Babe. I'm one very happy Chief. Exhausted, but _damn_, was it worth it! That was incredible. I mean--_incredible_."

"It was fabulous, all right. And you definitely improved on my suggestion for my fantasy. I think I'll let you have free reign on my next 2. I'm officially signing off on that."

He grinned, "That's really dangerous, you know. I've got a _very_ vivid imagination and there's no telling what---"

"Don't I know it! And I'm up for whatever you are," I slowly ran my hand down his abs, caressing his mocha-latte colored skin with ever-increasing pressure, "In fact, I'm fully recovered and ready for another fantasy right now."

"You're _insatiable_, woman," he laughed, giving me a long slow soft kiss that made me moan, "I haven't even taken off the damned condom and you want more."

"'_You don't ask, you don't get_,' my grandmother always says." I wagged my eyebrows at him comically, "So I'm asking, Superman. I definitely want to get whatever I can out of you before I let you out of my sight." I oh-so-carefully avoided saying what we both knew I really meant: before he shipped out to the Middle East and an uncertain future.

"Neither one of us is going to be good for a damned thing tomorrow---I mean, later today," he sighed, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. I was thrilled to see that his step was unsteady: yep, no question, I was definitely screwing his brains out. I grinned triumphantly. _Stephanie Plum, Intergalactic Princess, Tribal Princess, and Sex Bomb Extraordinaire! _And for once I didn't give a rat's furry ass _what_ my mother or the Burg busy-bodies thought about that. Hmmmmmmm. That's some really potent magic the Wizard's practicing!

I heard the toilet flush as I hoisted myself gingerly out of bed, holding onto the nightstand as I got my bearings. Damn, I was feeling muscles I hadn't used in _forever_! And I was kind of light-headed, come to think of it--but grinning ear-to-ear like a love-struck fool. And I was love-struck: I was head-over-heels in love with a sexy hot deliciously gorgeous man who loved me back. And we had the whole weekend together…aside from the damned wedding, that is. I groaned, unhappily remembering my promised stint as a bridesmaid. I so did _not_ want to do that in the condition I was going to be in this afternoon. That was a nightmare waiting to happen, particularly since Stella and my friends all knew why I was going to be so out of it!

"Problems?" Carlos said, crossing over to the bed just in time to hear me groan. He was naked, and the sight of him--moving around the room so totally un-self-conscious about his body--still took my breath away. "Babe?"

Staring transfixed at him, I checked for drool. Nope, I'm good. "I'm thinking seriously of ditching this wedding gig." Wow! I don't know where _that_ blurt came from!

He looked at me carefully, then his eyes looked regretful, "I have something I can't get out of, Babe. So if you bail on your friend, you'll be alone until evening…."

"Oh, crap." I sighed, moving slowly to the bathroom to freshen up, "I _can't_ bail on Stella, even if you _could_ ditch your appointment. They'd hunt me down and string me up on a flagpole. And I'd feel guilty as hell for standing her up, no matter how much I want to. But I don't want this to end, Carlos. _This_…right here and now….you and me….over and over….it gets better and better each time. And each time I can't imagine loving you more or wanting you more. But then you touch me again….you kiss me….and I'm just….." I couldn't finish it. There were no words to express what Carlos made me feel, and finally I gave up trying. I loved the man more than life. If he didn't come back, I'd die inside. I knew it. And no matter what I had told myself, a weekend wasn't enough to store up memories to last for 18 months…if we were lucky. _Forever_, if we weren't.

"Babe," he met my eyes, reading me perfectly. How could he do that? But he always did. "This--what's between us--is a miracle. Our miracle. Don't question it, just _accept it_. Take what we're given, and don't waste a second regretting anything. I'll come back to you. _Whatever it takes_, remember? I don't make promises I don't keep."

"'Cause you're Superman, right?" I smiled softly, blinking a sudden tear out of my eye. I had to have faith---and I would. Carlos loved me and he would find me again. I just needed to hold on and learn patience. Which I didn't have. Okay, I get it, _I get it_: the Universe is testing me, teaching me to grow up and learn the concept of delayed gratification. Problem was, I much preferred the _instant_ kind. But he was right: worrying about the uncertain Future was wasting the precious Present. And I wasn't going to do that anymore.

"Te amo, Querida," he whispered as I moved into his arms. He gave me a long reassuring hug, and we stood for a moment silently drawing strength from each other. "Siempre. Always."

"Te amo, Carlos," I ran my hand over his cheek, memorizing the feel of his face. "Always."

He exhaled and suddenly slapped my bottom lightly, turning me in the direction of the bathroom. "You've got war paint all over your beautiful face, Tribal Princess Babe. I think you'd better wash it off before we start our next adventure, don't you?"

_Shit! _I remembered the painted squiggles I'd put all over my face with my eye pencils. I felt like an idiot now that the fantasy was over! I groaned and quickly headed to the bathroom to repair the damage.

When I returned, Carlos was holding my overnight bag and the key card. He was dressed in his tight jeans and no shirt, leaning against the door, looking like Sex on Legs. "Another road trip, Babe. Put this on fast." He tossed me a red scrap of material. "Here are your shoes. Put them on. Good girl. Now grab that bucket over there, and let's head out."

"_Road trip_?" I thought for a minute as I dressed, "We're going to the lobby to have public sex, aren't we?" True, I had told him I was up for anything, and he had warned me about his vivid imagination. But _still_…..

"We're not going to the lobby for sex, Babe," he laughed. "We've just about trashed the sheets and towels here. We're heading to my room on the eighth floor. We can finish our final four fantasies there."

"Not in public?" I asked, wiggling into the red spandex dress and patting my girls into the tube top.

"You sound disappointed, Babe," he teased, "We can always do it in the elevator if you insist. If we maneuver really carefully, we can probably avoid the security camera. Or _try _to, anyway. But I can't guarantee---"

"_Security cameras_?" I felt myself blushing head to toe. "No way! No elevator sex!"

"So we head to my room as planned," he reiterated as we stepped into the empty hall. "It's almost 3am, Babe, everyone should be asleep so we won't run into company. Unless you make a ton of noise." He grinned when I stuck my tongue out at him.

Without benefit of a mirror, I'd quickly thrown on the miniscule red tube top dress he'd tossed at me, and slipped my feet into 4 inch killer FMP's in a black snakeskin that made me feel truly dangerous. I looked both ways in the empty hall and shook my head incredulously. "I can't _believe_ I'm doing this. You have no shirt on, Carlos. And I look like I just rolled out of bed. What if anyone _sees _us? They'll think I'm a hooker and God knows what they'll think you are!"

"I told you: no one will be around at this time of morning. Now hurry up, let's get to the elevator."

He was two steps ahead of me, and I blanched: his muscular mocha-latte colored back was covered now in thin red stripes, courtesy of my fingernails! _Oh God! _We couldn't be seen, we just _couldn't_!! I doubled my speed, and caught up to him just as he was pressing the button for the elevator. It was then I caught sight of myself in the mirror across from the elevator. I was covered in hickeys! I counted _six_, all over my neck and shoulders! _Crappity, crap, crap! _I'd been in such a hurry to scrub off the makeup from my face, and my hair was such a mess that I hadn't paid too much attention to anything else. But seeing myself now in better lighting, I was completely horrified.

"I can't be in the wedding looking like _this_!" I exclaimed loudly, pointing at a particularly prominent hickey on the base of my throat, "I look like--like--like--I look like---" There were no words. Absolutely _none_. Trust me on this.

Carlos looked me over in smug satisfaction. "You look like a woman who has been thoroughly fucked and loved every second of it, Babe. And you're walking like it too."

Damn, but I _was_! I was going to make a spectacle out of myself in the wedding--and there would be tons of photos to prove it! And video, too, with me limping down the aisle as if I'd been riding a horse for days. I was so screwed: literally as well as figuratively. I had a quick mental flash of my mother with-holding pineapple upside down cake from me for life for this escapade!

"You don't have to sound so happy about this," I muttered, trying unsuccessfully to arrange my mop of _just-been-fucked _hair to disguise my hickeys. "Damn it, Carlos! You knew I had to be in a wedding! What were you _thinking_?"

"I sure as hell didn't give Stella What's Her Name any thought, that much is for sure," he smirked, "And I didn't hear you complaining any, Babe."

"What am I going to _do_? And where the hell is the freaking elevator? Why isn't it here yet? Who else is using it at this hour?" I was _not_ a happy camper.

Carlos shrugged carelessly, "We could always take the stairs if you prefer."

"Four floors? In 4 inch stilettos? I think not, Superman." I caught sight of myself again holding the bucket. "I look like an escaped lunatic." My hair had taken on a life of its own and was now rivaling Medusa's, missing only the snakes. And the basket made me look like I was trick or treating, dressed as a drunken skanky ho. _Good God!_

Just then it happened. My stomach gave a great rumble, the terrible Beast inside springing to life after a long respite. Carlos and I both jumped at the tremendous unexpected noise. I flushed again. "Sorry about that."

"_Babe_!" He sounded awe-struck. The Beast was truly ferocious.

"Omigod, I'm _hungry,_" I suddenly realized. _That_ was part of the light-headed feeling! I had burned up the fuel of my Fettuccini Alfredo long since, and now I needed sustenance. "We'll call for room service when we get upstairs, okay? I need to eat something."

The elevator door opened and Carlos ushered me in, not bothering to respond to my statement. Thankfully the elevator was empty, although I could see the damned security cameras and did my level-headed best to hide my face. To keep my face out of camera range, I was peering down at the not-unsubstantial cleavage the spandex tube top had given me. Hurrah for Frederick's of Hollywood! Who needed a Wonder Bra? Not moi! I tried not to think of what kind of comments the sight of me was generating in the guard's office. _Alice Slotsky's daughter Grizelda would never wear a dress as tight as a sausage casing in a hotel elevator, looking like the good time that was had by all._

Carlos checked his watch, unconcerned about his naked torso. Hell, why _should_ he be? He looked like a Greek God. The man was built to please and anyone who ran across him would be too busy admiring him to notice he was under-dressed for roaming around the hotel. Men would want to be him, and women would want to be with him. _It just wasn't fair_, I tell you. I pushed that out of my mind and concentrated instead on the important thing: my stomach. The terrible Beast took priority over everything else.

"I'm going to have the Eggs Benedict," I decided, as the doors glided shut. "With 3 strips of bacon on the side. And orange juice. And toast. What are you having?"

"_You_." Carlos gave me a wolf grin. "And since the kitchen closed an hour ago, I guess your Eggs Benedict will have to wait a few hours. Looks like the only thing for you to eat is standing right here next to you. And I'm _more_ than willing to satisfy your hunger, Babe."

_I'll just bet he was! _I let my eyes drop to _his_ now awakening Beast: the bulge in his snug-fitting jeans made my mouth suddenly as dry as the Sahara desert, and I bit my lip. "Cameras, huh?" I said softly. I felt a naughty little flutter down South near my doodah. I was _so_ a pineapple upside down cake-less nymphomaniac!

"Feeling brave, Wonder Woman?" he asked, his voice smooth as velvet. Our eyes met and I could see from the darkening of his milk chocolate eyes that he was hoping my answer was in the affirmative. I took a deep breath. _What the hell_, right? We could maneuver ourselves to avoid the camera. I wasn't ever daring to come back to this hotel anyway! Not after the mess we'd left behind in my all-but-trashed room! I nodded to Carlos, and was rewarded with a sudden brilliant flash of his 200 watt smile.

He dropped the overnight bag, and reached into the bucket I held, carefully selecting a piece of paper that he then opened and showed to me. To my utter astonishment, it said, in Carlos' writing, '_Something you've never done before because it scared or embarrassed you_.'

"How did you know to pick----" I didn't get a chance to finish the question before I was pushed to the back of the elevator with Carlos' mouth on mine in a searing kiss that made my knees buckle. I felt his erection pressed against my leg, and suddenly I forgot all about cameras and elevators and anything other than my overwhelming need for this man.

I was wet and ready for him, and he hurriedly tugged up my dress. Then we both attacked his belt and his zipper. He was sheathed in the condom and inside of me in less than a minute. My legs were wrapped tightly around his waist as he pounded me senseless against the wall of the elevator, while our tongues dueled for supremacy. I came almost instantly, helped by Carlos' very expert fingers on my clit. I screamed into his mouth, and he quickened his pace and took me over the top again before he gave a low groan and spent himself in the condom.

He had his eyes closed for a second as our foreheads touched, and I marveled again how beautiful a man he was. And he was all mine! We moved quickly apart, and adjusted our clothes, still avoiding the camera. Carlos tied the condom closed and looked around casually for a method of disposal. Figures. _I'd_ be mortified holding a used condom in public. _Carlos_ behaved coolly, as if he were holding the morning newspaper. I picked the remaining three papers out of the bucket and thrust the empty container at him. He smiled, then dropped the condom matter-of-factly inside. So much for trick or treat: I'd definitely gotten the treat! The skanky ho costume worked every time, I guess….

The elevator door opened a moment later, and I stepped out, followed by Carlos who had just picked up my overnight bag. I was holding the bucket in one hand, with a used XXL condom inside, and clutched the remaining three pieces of paper in my left hand. And my red spandex dress--what there was of it--had been rolled up and scrunched enough that it didn't hide a whole lot of what God gave me. My hickeys were on full display once again, my hair having been mussed by Carlos' careless hands. And now I sported swollen lips and that rosy glow that happens when a woman has been truly satisfied. Which I was, for sure. Oh yeah, I was feeling on top of the world right about now.

Which is why God, with his truly bizarre sense of humor, stepped in to slam me down to Earth again. We'd taken two steps or so when the first door in the corridor opened and an elderly woman peeked outside.

"Fred? Is that you?" She jumped a foot when she saw us, and I jumped two. _Eeek!! _

Carlos was unfazed, and said, "Sorry, we didn't mean to disturb you, Ma'am."

She looked at me like I was some form of pond scum, then got a good look at shirtless Carlos. He flashed her that dazzling 200 watt smile; she almost melted where she stood and I was forgotten. I watched her eyes as she slowly pulled them away from his gorgeous face and slid them down over his naked torso. Her eyes widened further and she swayed on her feet. She blinked once then opened her mouth--but nothing came out. Not a peep.

I knew exactly how she felt.

Fred, fortunately for her--and unfortunately for me--was only steps behind us, with a bucket of ice. He spoke before he saw us, having come from the ice machine around the corner, "This should do the trick, Bertha. Your headache will be gone in minutes."

"What headache?" Bertha asked, still dazed. She continued to stare at Carlos, who'd by then pulled me past the door before Fred had cardiac arrest at the sight of me. But we didn't move fast enough.

"Stephanie?" Fred's voice was incredulous. "I _thought_ it was you! What are you doing here? Dressed like….like….like….." Words failed him, as they had failed me earlier.

Crapola! Mr. Higgenbottom. My high school Algebra teacher! _Quick, Stephanie_, I thought, _think fast!!_

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" I slid quickly behind Carlos, pushing my hair over my face as much as possible. "I think you've made a mistake."

"You aren't Stephanie from Chambersburg High School?" He asked, his aged eyes peering suspiciously at me.

"Stephanie _Who_?" I batted my eyes innocently. Well, as innocently as I could standing there dressed like a skanky ho in next to nothing, hickey covered, and bald-faced lying to a man who knew damned well I was Ellen and Frank Plum's younger daughter. Did I say crappity crap crap? "I don't know any Stephanie. I'm Carla. Carla…Carla. _Clark. _Carla Clark! I'm from out of town…Cleveland. I'm just here overnight…for the…the…." my brain fried, I desperately floundered for something believable. "The bowling convention." I remembered the sign in the hotel lobby welcoming the National Association of Professional Bowlers. "I'm a professional bowler. Very famous. You've probably seen my face on TV tons of times, that's why you think you know me. I have one of those familiar faces---"

Carlos made what sounded suspiciously like a snort, then took charge of the situation before things got even more out of control and I put my foot any further down my throat. "Carla here needs to get her rest so she can bowl a perfect game tomorrow. She's got a big match with her friends Irene from Indianapolis, Betty from Baltimore and Myrtle from Milwaukee. If you'll excuse us, we'll say goodnight. Come on, Carla, let's go nighty-night so you can throw the bull….I mean, the ball tomorrow."

We made tracks down the hall, and after a few minutes I heard the door to the room behind us close.

"_Carla Clark from Cleveland_?" Carlos was having trouble keeping a straight face. "And a professional bowler, yet. My, my, I haven't even begun to scratch the surface of your talents yet, have I, Ms…..Clark. Is it Miss or Mrs.?"

"Bite me," I invited.

"Love to," he laughed and leaned down to grab me. His teeth nibbled on my earlobe and I shivered in delight. "That's just to hold you till we get to the room. And by the way, you're a lousy liar."

"I know. _Why me? _Mr. Higgenbottom was my high school Algebra teacher. He's like 80 or so. Why isn't he retired and living in Florida??"

"Maybe he is, and he's back here for the bowling convention," Carlos grinned. "Hey! Who knows: he could be your opponent for the big match, Carla!"

"Oh, crap. Now I have to wonder if he'll tell my mother."

"Wonder Woman isn't afraid of anyone."

"Wonder Woman never met my mother."

"I'd say she can't be that bad, but I know better. What are the odds of him running into your mother, realistically? Not good. You'll be fine…Carla."

But I was on to other thoughts now. "How did you know which paper to pick?" I suddenly remembered he'd had no trouble choosing the paper which fit our fantasy.

"The Wizard knows all," he said with a wink.

"Tell me," I begged, giving him a long wet kiss. "I'll make you a very happy man."

"You do that already," he hugged me, returning the kiss. "But okay, I'll spill my secret: I can tell mine by how I folded the paper. And I had only 2 fantasies left, so I pulled one and the odds were 50/50 I'd pull that one."

"You got lucky," I smiled, "See? Luck is on your side."

"It definitely is," he pulled me down the corridor, "Let's get moving or we'll never get there. We have three fantasies left. And I'm ready for all of them."

"Woo hoo, that sounds good for me!" I allowed him to lead me in the direction of his room until I was suddenly distracted. "Oh, look!" I pointed happily, "Room service!"

A cart had been pushed out from a room into the hallway, much of the food still uneaten. I tucked the bucket under my left arm and lifted a silver domed lid curiously before Carlos grabbed my arm and pulled me away. I dropped the lid back onto the cart, and the clatter echoed in the silent hallway.

"What are you doing?" I asked indignantly, my stomach's rumbling echoing my question. "I told you: _I'm hungry_. And you said the kitchen is closed. I'm just going to grab a little snack to tide me over till breakfast."

"Not by scavenging leavings from some stranger's plate," he retorted. "You don't know how long that's been out here."

"I need food," I pouted. "Those fries looked good! I can eat cold fries, Carlos. And onion rings. I _love_ onion rings! No one's ever caught salmonella or botulism poisoning from fries and onion rings! That's a scientific fact!"

Carlos--I swear--rolled his eyes in true Burg fashion. Then he pulled me back toward the alcove which held the floor's ice machine. We were back in Mr. Higgenbottom territory! He pulled out a few bills from his pocket and handed them over, indicating the vending machine. "Help yourself, Princess. Crackers and cheese. Doritos. Cheese Doodles. All the non-nutritional food a starving Princess needs to keep her engine stoked up and the Beast at bay."

I grinned, "This is not going to be pretty."

"I know," he groaned, "But unless we want a 3am trip to McDonald's--and I _don't_--this is the best we can do. And keep your voice down, or you can trade bowling tips with Fred and his Mrs."

"I'm fine with the vending machine." I started punching buttons and bag after bag of junk food jumped out to greet me. They even had that Reese's Peanut Butter Cup I'd been longing for earlier in the evening! "Come to Mama," I cooed as the orange labeled treat shook itself loose of the metal hook and landed in the well of the vending machine.

Carlos watched in a horrified fascination. "You're going to eat all of that at this hour of the morning? Together?"

"Not at one time," I defended myself. "I'm no pig."

"All right then."

"One after the other."

"Good God."

"I'll even share because it's your money."

"Don't bother, I don't want to see a grown woman cry."

"I have this thing for junk food."

"I noticed."

"And chocolate."

"I remember vividly."

"And a certain hot sexy Cuban's cock."

"_Babe_."

We walked back down the corridor at a quick pace now. I grinned, enjoying his discomfort as he tried to balance the overnight bag and my stash of food yet still find his room key with a bulging erection in his jeans. Carlos didn't get easily discomfited, and he was trying to be casual, but I could see he was having a rough time of it. "Anything wrong, Superman?"

"What could be wrong?"

"Need some help there?"

He groaned as I ran my hand over his package. "If you don't take your hand away, I'm going to lose it right here in the hall."

I grinned, "Kinda eager, huh?"

The door flew open and he tossed my overnight bag inside and pulled me after him. Yep, the man was eager. So was I.


	25. Chapter 25

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 25

_Carlos' POV_

Stephanie continued to surprise me: her willingness to have sex in the elevator, despite the presence of the security cameras, had totally stunned me. It had taken less than a minute for me to get hard and start taking both of us as close to Heaven as I'd ever get. Then, fresh from hotter than hot sex, she'd launched into her "Carla Clark" riff with the old guy who was apparently one of her high school teachers. She was a lousy liar, but totally enchanting nonetheless. I couldn't get rid of Fred and his Mrs. fast enough: I wanted my Babe all over again. _The professional bowlers convention_, for crying out loud! Then she'd started on a desperate and determined food search; and now, as a result, she sat cross legged on the king size bed, a bounty of junk food bags pooled between her legs, and she was crunching Cheese Doodles like they were manna from Heaven. How could she manage to look sexy eating junk food? Damn, I was really losing it now!

"How the hell can you eat that crap?" I shook my head in wonderment. "Do you have any idea what chemicals are in those things?"

"Yummy, yummy, yummy," she crunched faster, holding up her orange-colored fingers and then sucking them each lovingly. My cock twitched at the sight of it, and she gave a lusty laugh. "_That's_ yummy, too. But first I gotta get my strength back, Superman. You wore me out, you know. A girl's gotta have sustenance."

"_Babe_," I sighed, watching her fingers disappear into her mouth and remembering how good it felt to have that delicious mouth sucking my cock.

I'd disposed of the used condom in the bathroom, and tossed her overnight bag on the floor. I stared at the three remaining pieces of paper, sitting oh-so-innocently on the nightstand. I knew what my remaining fantasy was, and I'd carefully packed her bag to include her costume…and what a costume I'd selected! But I still wondered what her two remaining fantasies were. She'd surprised and delighted me with her previous selections: I'd never have imagined her to be so bold. But she was; and I knew that the remaining fantasies would be just as hot.

"My pick," she interrupted my musings, pointing to the papers. "I get to pick the next _two_, actually: you took my turn in the elevator."

"That I did," I replied, remembering.

"So I get to pick two in a row, it's only fair." The Cheese Doodles gave way to Doritos, and the manic crunching continued unabated. The girl was clearly hungry….

"You can pick all of them," I offered with a smile, "I'm all for being cooperative, Babe."

"Good to know," she grinned, offering me a chance at the package of chips.

"No thanks," I waved them away, "I prefer nutritious food, not empty calories."

"Your loss," she said, munching faster than ever. "God, these are so good!"

"There isn't a contest I don't know about, is there, Babe? Whoever finishes their junk food fastest wins? You on a time clock here?"

"No contest, Superman. I just need to feed my Beast before we feed yours," she explained, moving along to a package of chocolate chip cookies. "Yummy. My absolute favorites."

"A chocolate lover, huh?" I watched, amused as she devoured the cookies with a loud moan of appreciation that bordered on the obscene.

"Nothing better than chocolate." She considered carefully, "Except really great sex."

"Speaking of," I indicated the overnight bag. "You pick a fantasy out right now and I'll get your costume ready."

"I can't believe you packed my clothes so you'd be able to pick out _costumes_!" She shook her head, incredulous. "What if my two fantasies don't fit the clothes you have in there? What then, Superman?"

"Then we do without a costume and I simply ravish your naked body instead," I teased, wagging my eyebrows and winning a hearty laugh.

"I suppose you packed all my lingerie and tons of high heels?"

"You know me very well, Babe." I'd done exactly that.

"Including those black stiletto boots you were drooling over earlier?" she smirked.

"I've got big plans for those boots," I confessed, "_Very_ big plans."

"Now you have me really curious," she popped a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup in her mouth, and reached over to grab the three pieces of paper. "Since you revealed your secret trick on how to tell your fantasies from mine….I think I'll be very brave and pick your last one. The boot one, I'm guessing?"

"It is," I said, my voice husky at the thought that she would give me my fantasy before selecting one of hers. "Thanks, Babe."

"De nada, Superman," she winked, "You've aroused my curiosity, among other things. And I love those boots, so----"

She opened the paper and read silently. Her eyes widened, and her tongue stilled where it had been licking the chocolate off her pouty lips. "Holy Moly, Mother of God! You are one sick puppy, Superman!"

My cock was straining to escape the confines of my tight jeans. "Are you in?"

"Not _real _pictures, though, right?" Steph nibbled her lip thoughtfully, "You don't have a camcorder or anything hidden around here, do you?"

"Unfortunately, no," I sighed unhappily. I'd kill for one, though. "But you have a digital camera."

"For the wedding, sure," Steph nodded absent-mindedly, still examining the paper in dazed fascination, "But it's downstairs in my room."

"No it's not," I revealed, "It's right here." I held it up, having taken it from the overnight bag where I'd packed it earlier. "It's one of the props for this fantasy."

"Oh shit!" she murmured, her eyes widening, "You mean…._really _pose for those pictures? As in, you plan to take the pictures and _keep_ them? Me naked?"

The paper sat opened next to her, my writing neat and precise: _'You are a porn actress and I am directing you in your first film. You will pose as I direct you to, and then, aroused by the photo session, you'll beg me to fuck you.'_

"You've got a beautiful body, Babe," I said in a husky tone, "I'd love to have photos of you to take with me when I go Monday."

"There are photos and then there are _photos_," Steph argued, "Naked shots of me are not going _anywhere_ outside this room. No matter how beautiful you think my body is, Superman! No way am I going to risk those pictures getting on the internet or having strangers ogle me. Nope, _not doing it_! You take a few photos, and we delete them here and now the very second the fantasy is done."

"Just let me keep a few to remember this by," I urged.

"Famous last words," Steph snorted, "_No way_, Superman. You'll be looking at your pictures and some of your Army buddies will come over, and before long they'll show you their women and you'll show them your woman…."

"No I won't." I tried sounding definite, but it wasn't working even for me.

"Damn straight you won't," she nodded, "Because there won't be anything to show them! Nope: no way, no pictures, no how."

I smiled engagingly, "I'll make a deal with you."

"No deals." She looked imperiously at me, and shook her head, her wild auburn curls cascading over her bare shoulders.

"It's gonna be a long 18 months, Babe." I let my voice lower to a velvet purr, "And there are going to be some _very_ lonely nights."

"True. And they're going to be _picture-less _nights," she interrupted me.

"Just three. A close up and two full body views," I bargained. "Come on!"

"_Dream on_, Carlos. A close up of my face, okay. You want full body views, I'm wearing clothes. And not some costume you dream up, either."

"I'll make it worth your while, Babe," I insisted. "You pose for me, I'll pose for you."

Steph stopped chewing mid-candy. "_You'll _pose? Naked?" I could see the glazed look in her all-too-revealing blue eyes. She was definitely interested, as I knew she would be.

"I'll pose naked. However you want, Babe," I agreed. "You let me direct you, I'll let you direct me. You call the shots."

"Good bribe," she congratulated.

"I thought so."

"But the answer is still no."

"No?"

"I'll take a few pictures of naked you, and with my shitty luck my mother will go looking to borrow my camera. And before you know it, the porn shots are right there for all to see. And I'm dessert-less for life, and labeled a sex offender, just like Grandma Mazur."

"Where is that brave Wonder Woman who had sex in the elevator, damn the security cameras?"

"Where is she? I'll tell you! Right now she's desperately hoping to hell the guards aren't, as we speak, re-watching some camera angle she didn't see and getting their rocks off as her legs are kicking in the breeze while she's getting fucked against that wall. Nope, Carlos, you are _not _going to change my mind on this. Not doing it, not even for you. You can pick out my outfit, you can direct me all you like and we can have hot sex. _Really _hot sex. Boots on and everything. You can take all the photos you want with my camera….and then we'll sit here afterwards and I'll delete them all. Then I'll put my clothes on and smile and you can take a picture of me. Anyway--what are you going to do with it? How can we get it developed before you leave on Monday morning?"

"I'll download it on my laptop; I have it here in the room," I pointed to the closet where I kept the laptop locked in my luggage. "I can use it as my screensaver."

"Yeah, and that is _exactly_ why I'm holding firm to the no naked-pics position. All I'd need to do is be your screen-saver in my birthday suit!"

"Don't worry: I wouldn't use _that _picture as the screen-saver, Babe."

"I won't _have_ to worry about it, Carlos. Because you're not going to have the picture to use." She finished her stash of goodies and climbed off the bed to toss away the empty bags and wrappers.

"Don't trust me, Steph?" I gave her my wolf grin. "Why not?"

She grinned back, "You're going into combat for 18 months. Now let me see: I remember all too well the condition you were in less than 12 hours ago when I met you downstairs in the bar. Horny enough to go through a pack of condoms in one night. And I'm not supposed to worry about letting you loose with a few naked pictures of me in nothing but my stiletto boots and a _just-been-fucked _smile? Does it say '_stupid_' on my forehead, Soldier? I think not."

Smart woman.

I handed her the tiny scrap of black lace fabric that passed for a teddy, and the fitted black over-the-knee boots that had aroused me from the first moment I'd seen them.

Steph smiled seductively, "So, I need to go and get ready for my film debut, huh, Mr. Director?"

"You can call me Carlos," I purred, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "We're going to be very…_friendly_. I run that kind of set."

"Really? How lucky for me. I'm new to this kind of thing. I need…hands on help."

"You came to the right director, Babe. Hands on help is my specialty. Just slip into your little costume---"

"Little is right."

"Did I mention I love your taste in lingerie?"

"I figured as much. Your…_friend_….down there is giving it a standing ovation."

"My…_friend_…is eager to come out and meet you."

"I better change clothes and get ready, then. I don't want to miss out when you call 'Lights, camera, action'."

"You aren't going to miss a thing, Babe. I'm going to make sure you get special treatment."

Steph winked and slipped into the bathroom, her gorgeous ass wiggling sensuously as she closed the door behind her. Damn, I was hard and ready! I moved to the bed, eager to get started.

She didn't disappoint.

Moments later the door opened and Steph stepped out in a teddy that was so sinfully tiny that there were no words to describe how hot and horny I was at the sight of her. She stood posing in the black lace halter-topped nothing, with scraps of material that barely covered her nipples and a neckline that plunged far below her belly button. A tiny strap held the fabric in place around her neck, a faux diamond chain holding the two pieces of fabric across her breasts. The teddy was held around her hips with two tiny ties that left nothing to the imagination.

The fitted black boots ended over the top of her knee, and laced at the back of her thighs. They were so hot I damn near came just from the sight of her. She was Sex on Legs. And she was _mine_.

"Babe! You look so sexy I can't put it into words." My eyes were popping out of my head, my tongue hanging out panting. Damn! She looked so hot she was _smoking_!

Steph shook her head saucily, teasing me with her long mane of riotous auburn curls. She had no makeup to touch herself up; she hadn't needed it, either. "So, I'll pass muster as your leading lady, Carlos?"

"Jesus, Steph, you're _killing_ me. Where the hell did you find that outfit?"

She laughed, a lusty laugh that sent shivers of delight all down my spine, "Bridal shopping. A group of us hit Victoria's Secret after work today to find Stella's wedding night ensemble. And naturally, we all had to do some shopping for ourselves. You just happened to hit things on a lucky night: I bought quite a bit at Victoria's Secret, thanks to Tina's urging. She was convinced that I'd need them, even though I was swearing off men forever."

"I owe Tina," I rasped, snapping the first of a half dozen photos of Steph in that killer outfit. "Remind me to thank her."

"You and me both," Steph whispered, "God! Just seeing that look on your face has me so wet I could scream!"

"You'll scream," I promised, "Just not yet. First we have some photos to take."

"I'm all yours."

"That you are, and don't forget it," I leaned over to caress her face, "Just remembering you like this will get me back to you, no matter what. Babe, you look so damned sexy you have no idea what you do to me."

She grinned, her eyes pointedly sliding down my body, "I have a very good idea what I do to you. And I'm loving every second of it."

"Over to the bed, Babe. And stretch out, just….like….this."

I posed her exactly as I wanted, one hand under her head, the other resting on her breast, her legs angled to reveal that patch of womanhood that I could see was already wet for me. "Perfect! Now move your hand a bit over there….hold it!" I snapped the photo. "And now I want you to look over here, lick your lips, think of me deep inside you. Brush your nipples and get them hard. Then…..perfect!" I snapped another shot.

Steph was a natural model, moving seductively from one pose into the next, her natural sensuality making the photos searingly hot. I snapped dozens of photos, finally having her slip the teddy off her breasts and using her hands to cup her full breasts as I fought my urge to toss the camera down, tear off the teddy and take her completely.

"You like this, Carlos?" she husked. "What about _this_? You like _this_?"

"_Babe!_" I liked it. I liked it all. Hell, I did more than like it. I freakin ass _loved_ it! She was a wet dream come true, and I could tell from her sparkling eyes that she was enjoying my naughty fantasy as much as I was.

The boots. God, those boots! The sight of her long lush go-on-forever legs encased in those tight boots, laced behind her thighs, had me rock hard throughout the photo session. Finally I could take no more.

"What do you want, Babe?" I asked, my hint to her that I was ready to move to the best part of our fantasy.

Stephanie didn't disappoint. She languidly climbed on her hands and knees and crawled towards me across the bed, her voice husky. She rose on her knees, slowly doffed the teddy, and tossed it teasingly over the camera. "What do I want? I'll tell you _exactly_ what I want. What I've wanted the very second I saw you. I want your cock, Carlos. I want you deep inside me, fucking me rough and fast and hard and deep. Fucking me, pounding me so hard I can't stop screaming."

Holy shit! I tossed the camera to the side, feverishly unzipping my jeans. I couldn't get the condom on fast enough! I gave her exactly what she'd asked for. She kept the boots on, and I felt the black rubber rubbing against my waist and ass as she locked her legs around me and I rode her to a thunderously powerful orgasm.

I let slip a long stream of Spanish, words that came from deep inside myself, poetry to tell this beautiful creature all she was to me, all she had given me. Her moans of pleasure were swallowed by my hungry mouth, and we moved across the bed, our bodies locked together in a dance of ecstasy. When I came, I felt her shudder beneath me, and knew that she and I had come together in an orgasm that was every bit as satisfying as any we'd ever had before.

It took a few minutes before I could find the strength to roll off her; our bodies were covered with a fine sheen of perspiration. I kissed her gently, then rolled onto my back.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMM." Steph sighed.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMM." I returned.

"That was sooooooooo good," she stretched light a satisfied cat. "I enjoyed being your leading lady, Mr. Director."

"I enjoyed having you," I teased.

"I enjoyed being had," she giggled, coming into my arms for a long loving hug and a few more sweet soft kisses.

"Those boots are lethal, Steph," I warned her, "Promise me something: you don't wear those boots for anyone but me."

"Give me some incentive," she purred as I climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom to dispose of the condom.

"What kind of incentive?" I called over my shoulder. "You have anything particular in mind?" I stepped out of the bathroom and found Steph with the camera, naked except for her boots.

"This kind," she whispered, snapping a few photos as I leaned against the door jam and posed for her.

"Change your mind, Babe?" I asked hopefully.

"About the nude photos?" she replied, "No. Not a chance. But we can look at the pictures together before I delete them all."

"That's a waste of some damned fine pictures," I protested.

"Well, that's how it goes, Superman," she shrugged, a soft smile lighting her gorgeous face. "We can always snap a few photos for your collection that aren't XXX rated."

My eyebrow raised interestedly, "What are you offering?"

"Got a shirt I can borrow?" she asked. "I'll keep the boots on…."

I grinned. Yeah, that'd do. That'd do just _perfectly_….


	26. Chapter 26

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 26

Life was completely and utterly perfect for Stephanie Michelle Plum. Namely _moi_. I wiggled my toes, lying naked beside the roaring fire, and thought--just _thought_, mind you--about opening my 40 pound eyelids to greet the day. Then I decided '_shit, no_' and raced back to Morpheus' sweet embrace. That's when all hell started to break loose. It started with the song. One _particular_ song, in fact: Meredith Brooks' "I'm A Bitch". Suddenly I couldn't get it out of my mind, no matter how desperately I tried to concentrate on how blissfully comfortable I was, lying recumbent by the fire with not a care in my world.

_I hate the world today You're so good to me I know but I can't change _

Go away, Meredith! I _don't _hate my world today; I'm a very happy woman. In fact, I don't remember ever being happier. Except for having 40 pound eyelids, which I would deal with the moment--the very _moment_--I was forced at gunpoint to do so. Not _now_, though. Certainly not now when I was deliciously pleased with the world in general, and my own creature comforts in particular.

Meredith kept shrilly bragging about being a bitch. And I certainly agreed with her: she was annoying the hell out of _me_, that was for damned certain! Not enough for me to _move_, though; certainly not enough for me to get up and take her on, woman to woman. Just enough for me to agree with her boast that she was definitely a real grade A bitch.

"_Fuck you_," I mumbled, my voice coming from far away and sounding low and mean. Hear that, Meredith? _I _can be a bitch, too! Now shut the fuck up and let me go back to sleep or….or…I'll…._whatever_. Just not _now_.

"Babe?"

The voice sounded like liquid sex, and a jolt of pleasure raced through my body as I stifled a yawn and tried to nestle closer to the roaring fire, which unbelievably seemed to be rolling away from me. God, that Babe was a lucky woman! Wonder if he looked anywhere near as hot as he sounded?

_I hate the world today You're so good to me I know but I can't change _

"Fuck off, Meredith! I'm warning you!" I snarled, fed up to the gills with the pushy bitch.

"Babe? Who's Meredith?"

The fire abruptly died, and I shivered as I lay naked in front of the hearth. "Put another log on the fire," I ordered, shivering under the covers. I'd gone from toasty warm to freezing in the space of a minute. It was all that bitch Meredith's fault, I just _knew_ it.

"Steph? _Babe? _Come on, Steph, it's time to get up now."

"MMMMM?" Now I was confused. _Get up? _The liquid sex voice was insistent, and I felt a shiver of pleasure when warm lips met my bare shoulder.

I struggled mightily, curious to see if the hunk looked as good as he kissed and as he sounded. I managed to pry one 40 pound eyelid open, and was rewarded with the sight of what had to be the sexiest man on the planet, in his full naked glory, leaning over my prone form.

"Yowza!" I purred. "You're _hot_!"

"Thanks, Babe," he laughed. "You're dead to the world, aren't you?"

"Do I know you?" I fought bravely with the other massively weighty eyelid, and victorious, managed to peer stupidly at the Naked Hunk, who had a smile on his gorgeous face that seemed all-too-familiar. "I _do_ know you, don't I? I'm sure I do."

"Definitely. And in the Biblical sense," he confirmed.

"Damn, I got _lucky_ last night!" I congratulated myself. Then I went to sit up, only to realize I was naked as the day I was born. And dizzy as hell. "Wow! Get the name of that fuckin' bus that hit me!" I demanded.

"Time to get up, Babe," Naked Hunk insisted. He was easy on the eyes, but damned if he wasn't beginning to annoy me almost as much as Meredith The Bitch had!

"_Why_?" I pouted. "Get back in bed and let's get Biblical again." I was beginning to realize that _he_ was the fireplace that'd kept me so warm in my dreams. _I need more Naked Hunk, Biblical or not. But preferably Biblical. I'm such a nymphomaniac._

He laughed a low husky laugh that sent my pulse into overdrive, "God, Steph, _I love you_." I'd clearly spoken out loud yet again.

"You _do_?" I brushed a long lock of wildly curly hair out of my eyes, and began to yawn. "Oh fuck, not _again_!"

Meredith was back, shriller than ever.

_I hate the world today You're so good to me I know but I can't change _

"Shut the fuck up, Bitch!" I snarled. "Or I'll take you down piece by piece."

"Your phone's been ringing off and on for the last 15 minutes, Babe. That's what woke me up: I think your girlfriends are missing you."

_Shit. _Meredith Brooks' _Bitch _was Tina's personalized ring tone. And trust me: it fit her perfectly.

"What time is it, anyway, Soldier?" I moaned, the whole of last night and the early morning hours crashing down around my head right about now.

"Oh, so you _do_ remember me after all?" He sounded amused.

"I remember _that_," I pointed at his very prominent morning wood. "A _lot_ of that."

"_Babe_."

"Did we make all twelve fantasies?" I honestly wasn't sure right about now. Not that I was complaining, mind you. I was totally exhausted but happily so.

He nodded, "Sure did. You don't remember? I'm crushed."

"Give me a minute," I sighed, rubbing my eyes and smacking my lips as I tried desperately to get the morning started. "Wait: I remember we played doctor, right?"

He gave me a wolf grin, "Yep. I gave you some very special care for that ache between your legs."

I blushed, remembering, "You sure did, Superman! Hand me that damned phone, will you please? And if you have a gun handy, could you loan it to me for a minute? I want to take care of Tina before she drives me fucking insane with that damned phone."

"No gun, Steph, you'll wake up the other guests on the floor. And with the noise you were making last night, they all need their rest."

Another blush. "I was kind of…._noisy_. Wasn't I?" An unpleasant thought began to settle….

"The people next door called the front desk twice," Carlos confirmed with a wicked grin, "I had to do some fast talking or we'd both have been tossed out on our ear on and about 5am. Thanks to _you_, Babe. You were very vocal in your….pleasure."

"Oh, shit, I can't _ever_ come back here again," I groaned. "What the hell time _is_ it anyway?"

"Just before 8," he answered, "I think we got a grand total of 2 hours sleep, give or take."

"Crappity, crap, crap! I look like hell, don't I?" I took the phone from his hand and stared at it. "What did I want this for, anyway?" I honestly wasn't sure. Of anything.

"Your friend's been calling. Probably Tina, right?" Carlos reminded me. "God, you look tired, Babe. Wish I could let you sleep in a bit longer, but we both have morning breakfast appointments, remember?"

"_SHIT!!!!!!!! _Oh _FUCK_!" My eyes widened as I finally managed to process what today was and what I was supposed to do about it. Namely, meet Stella and the other bridesmaids for breakfast in the Queen Anne Room _at 8am_. No wonder Tina was having a cow!

Just then, Meredith's anthem sounded again, and I winced as I answered Tina's summons.

"I know, I'm late." So much for trying to stave off the scolding.

"Where the hell _are_ you, Stevie?" Tina's voice was strident. "We're all standing right outside your room, and you're nowhere to be found! We're supposed to be having breakfast at 8, and Stella is ready to cry. She's convinced you were murdered in your sleep by Ted Bundy or something."

"Oh for crying out loud! Drama queen, much! I'm in Carlos' room up on the 8th floor," I scrambled out of bed and began hurriedly shoving my scattered lingerie and stilettos into my overnight bag one-handed. "I just woke up, okay? I'm _fine_, I'll be down in a few minutes, just everybody _chill_, okay?"

"Why did you go upstairs, anyway?" Tina's voice was grating on my nerves, my head was pounding and I wanted to throw up from my sudden racing around the room. I was sooooo not in the mood for a wedding breakfast. Hell, I was so not in the mood for a wedding, period. "You were in your room when we saw you last night, why on Earth did you leave? I _told _you we weren't going to listen in while you got yourself fucked senseless. We were getting ready to call the front desk and have them unlock the door to your room. Did I say that Stella was certain you were hacked to bits and scattered all over the place?"

"Stella watches too many CSI reruns," I snapped, grabbing the digital camera away from Carlos who had aimed it in my direction. "_Gimme that_!"

"Give you _what_?" Tina's voice was clueless.

"Not _you_; I mean _Carlos_," I yelped, narrowly avoiding a slap on my naked backside as he decided to get playful. "Gimme that, it's not funny, Carlos!"

"_What's_ not funny?" Tina was side-tracked, "What's he doing anyway?"

"Trying to take my picture again," I huffed, sending him a Burg death glare.

"That's so cute." Tina cooed. "He wants a picture of you!"

"No, it's not _cute_: I'm _naked_," I snapped, hearing her catch her breath and wincing as she then launched into a round of 20 Questions.

"Is _he_ naked? Did you take X rated pics of each other? Can I see them? Did you get any sleep at all last night or did you boff each other's brains out? Did you get through the whole box of condoms? How did you end up in his room? Were you----"

"_ENOUGH_!" I wailed, "I have a _headache_, okay? Keep it down! We fucked all night and into the morning, if you have to know. I look like shit. I _feel_ like shit. I got no sleep at all. Or like 2 hours worth. No doubt about it: I am going to be the most humiliated bridesmaid ever! I have _hickeys_ all over me, Tina. No kidding. _All over me_."

"OMIGOD!" Tina's voice was so loud I almost dropped the phone, "OMIGOD! You _don't_!"

"I _do_," I ran into the bathroom and examined myself under the unforgiving lights. It was even worse than I recalled. "Oh, fuck it all, Tina! I _can't_ wear a halter dress looking like this! My throat and my shoulders are _covered _in hickeys!" I glared at Carlos, who unapologetically winked at me as he disappeared into the shower. _Damned man!!_

"Well, it's a good thing Stella sprung for a professional makeup artist," Tina reassured me. "Get your ass down here fast so we can go eat. Because Nikki's going to need every minute she can get to make you half-way presentable. The photographer's due at 11 and we need hair, makeup and manis and pedis."

"Oh God," I swayed on my feet, "Why _me_??" _Annie Slotskovich's daughter Donna doesn't show up for wedding photos covered in 1001 hickeys and looking like she stayed awake all night fucking non-stop. _I swear, I could hear my mother's voice as she berated me. "And as if that isn't bad enough--and it _is_--guess who I ran into last night while we were on our way to Carlos' room? While I was looking like the good time that was had by all? _Mr. Higgenbottom_!"

"OMIGOD!" Tina's voice sounded like a broken record, "OMIGOD! You _didn't_! Is he still alive?? He must be like _90_!"

"Will you please say something other than _OMIGOD_?" I pleaded.

"Okay, okay, okay. Aren't you glad I talked you into that Victoria's Secret lingerie?" she asked excitedly. "Did he tear it off you? Do you have any left to wear for the wedding?"

Oh, shit! I almost _didn't_. I vaguely recalled protesting as Carlos ripped off the ice blue matching halter bra and panties that I'd bought especially to wear with the gown. I had one pair of panties left: _a red thong. _Oh shit! It would look just _lovely_ peeking through the ice blue silk bridesmaid's gown I was supposed to wear this afternoon!

"I'm so screwed," I groaned unhappily.

"Well, you _were_," Tina's irrepressible voice answered me. "Come on downstairs, girl, ASAP and we'll figure something out. Just remember: you promised me all the raunchy details and I'm going to hold you to it. Every single one of them!"

_Wonderful! _I sighed, hanging up just moments before Carlos' hand pulled me into the shower for his own very special brand of _Good Morning_. Forgotten, my cell phone clattered onto the counter, as I was swept up into powerful arms that made me forget all about anything and everything else but how good it was to be _me_!


	27. Chapter 27

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 27

Okay, so I'd changed my mind, now that I'd had a few delicious orgasms in the shower, courtesy of Carlos' magic fingers. (Unfortunately, we had no condoms, so we'd been unable to do what we both wanted to do. You can guess what _that_ was, can't you?) Nope, now that I stared at my image in the bathroom mirror, The Hair From Hell in full display and hickeys everywhere…some new ones added, damn it all….I decided it was not fun at all to be Stephanie Plum today. Particularly if poor Stephanie was going to be immortalized on film looking like crappity, crap, crap. Which I did. In spades.

"I _can't_ go to this wedding, Carlos. I look like shit."

"You look great, Babe. Very sexy."

"You're a lousy liar, Superman, but I appreciate the effort."

"Didn't you say there was a makeup person coming for the bridal party?"

"A makeup artist, not a magician."

"And someone to do your hair, right? You'll be fine, Babe. You worry too much."

"I can't believe you didn't bring another dress for me to wear back to my room! I have to go downstairs dressed like a slut, looking like a slut and feeling like a…_slug_."

"I can order some coffee, but you said you were already late, so---"

On cue, my cell began trilling "Bitch" again. I sighed, picking it up and biting the bullet.

"Where the fuck _are_ you, Stevie? You said you were on your way! How, via _Siberia_? You know, we're all gathered outside your door waiting for you to make an appearance. Stella's a nervous wreck, and I'm ready to strangle you because you're up there probably getting fucked yet _again_ by that hot man of yours while I'm down here getting an enormous headache from her non-stop sobbing. She's convinced something terrible must have happened to you, and no one can talk her out of it."

"Seeing me isn't going to help her relax, unfortunately: I look like I've been rode hard and put away wet. My hair is a mess, I have hickeys on top of my hickeys---"

"That's why we have Nikki and Heather! Get your ass down here _now_, Stevie! Do not pass Go, do not collect $200--we're already late for breakfast and I want to know _everything_ about last night! You promised, remember?"

"Fine, fine, I'm coming. Hold your horses, I just got out of the frickin' shower, okay?"

"I'm putting Stella on right now. Tell her you're alive."

"Don't you dare put----Hi, Stella! Happy Wedding Day!"

Carlos' eyebrow lifted, and I could see him listening in as we both dressed. He was dressing in yet another all black ensemble, and although he looked tired, he looked very sexy. It really wasn't fair: men looked sexy, tired or not; women on the other hand just looked like hell.

"Where _are_ you, Stevie? Are you okay? Why aren't you in your room like you were last night? What happened, and tell me the truth! Did he force you to go upstairs?"

"No, of course he didn't force me to go upstairs. Why would he?"

Carlos mouthed the words "The bride thinks I kidnapped you?" He seemed amused.

I nodded assent, and launched into an assurance to my friend the worried bride that I was fine, unhurt, and that I'd be there in front of her in only minutes. I suggested they all go on to the Queen Anne Salon and start breakfast, but no---Stella was _adamant_: she wanted to see me ASAP. And so, alas, my secret plan to hide in my room and miss breakfast was dashed….

I hung up, sighing deeply, and met Carlos' warm brown eyes. "I almost scored a nap before the wedding. But unfortunately, they're on to me. Now I need to go down and change my clothes for breakfast before I get tossed out of the hotel like last night's trash."

"Babe," he hugged me, "You are _gorgeous_; you look a little bit tired, but that's all. You're going to be the most beautiful bridesmaid in the world."

I snorted, "Then the world is in major trouble, is all I can say."

_Damn! _I had no moisturizer, no makeup (other than a tube of lip gloss tucked in my purse), no hair product to tame my out of control mane, no clip or ribbon to tie it back, no toothbrush, no underwear other than a red thong I was saving to wear for the wedding…..and I had a red spandex tube top dress that barely covered my unmentionables and 4 inch black snakeskin stilettos. Great: I was officially a Skanky Ho!

Carlos and I rode down the elevator in silence, both of us desperately trying to close our eyes and catch a few ZZZZZs. I'd already suffered my morning humiliation courtesy of Mr. Higgenbottom, who'd unbelievably opened his door to welcome the room service cart just as Carlos and I passed by his room. _Wonderful. _His beady little eyes missed nothing: I was still wearing last night's hooker ensemble, and looked beyond slutty. I hoped to hell he _was _in the bowling tournament and thus would be leaving NJ after today. The last thing I needed was for him to run into my mother and ask if I'd been in Newark this weekend, or if I really had a twin on the skanky side.

Carlos carried my overnight bag, and as the doors opened on the 4th floor I reached over to take it from him. Surprisingly, he shook his head and indicated that he'd follow me out the door.

"You don't have to----"

"Babe, I'm here for moral support. Besides, your girlfriend thinks I'm Jack the Ripper, so I want to reassure her I'm not. Otherwise she'll never let you hear the end of it."

"Thank you," I whispered, knowing he was right. And desperately needing the moral support.

"You worry too much what other people think about you, Babe."

"I know--I'm a big wimp."

"You're anything _but_, Steph! You're Wonder Woman, remember? Wonder Woman doesn't care what _anyone_ thinks, she just behaves the way she wants to and damn the consequences!"

"Wonder Woman doesn't have my mother. And nosy girlfriends who are going to want all the details about last night."

At this Carlos blanched pure white. "_All_ the details?"

So Superman did have nerves, after all? I giggled, "Not that they're _getting_ them, Carlos. But yes, they'll all _ask_. And then I'll have to play 20 Questions on no sleep. And try to walk down the aisle when I can barely stand upright, thanks to you."

Carlos reached over and pulled me into his arms for a hug, "I programmed my number into your cell phone, Babe. Call me if you need me; I'll give you a pep talk before you start down the aisle. Remind you why you're in the shape you're in and how you're all mine for the rest of the weekend."

I couldn't keep the goofy grin off my face at that thought. "I can't wait," I sighed. Then I blurted, "And get more condoms! A _lot_ more!"

I won a huge wolf grin in response, before his eyes widened at the sight that awaited us.

"_There she is_!!!" A loud voice cried, and the mob--and it truly _was _a mob, by this point--that had gathered in front of my room began to surge en masse towards us. I opened my mouth to reply, but honestly I couldn't come up with a thing to say. I was too busy trying to process the fact that a dozen or so women were heading in our direction, Stella at the lead. I'm ashamed to confess that I froze like a deer in the headlights.

"What the hell?" Carlos said, under his breath. "You work with this lunatic herd of estrogen?"

I nodded weakly, before becoming enveloped in a big bear hug that only a just-rescued hostage or a newly-discovered relative deserved. I weaved on my feet, the press of bodies getting to be too much; Carlos moved to my side to keep me upright.

"Stella, honey, _please_! Let me go. I'm _fine_! Truly! I'm just tired, okay? I have to get into my room and change my clothes before we have to go----"

Stella, unfortunately, had by this time gotten a good, long close look at me--and as I've said, it wasn't pretty. And as a bride who'd clearly paid a frickin' fortune for a photographer who was going to record for posterity how abysmal her over-sexed bridesmaid looked, she wasn't a happy camper. My previously sympathetic friend morphed instantly into Bridezilla.

"Look at you! Oh my God! Stevie! Just--just--_look at yourself_!! You're going to ruin my wedding!" she snarled. And snarled is a very apt description: trust me! "How _could _you?"

"How could she _not_?" blurted her cousin Moira, who'd just spotted Carlos and damned near passed out in dizzy glee. "_Look_ at him! How in the hell could she say no to _him_? He's so smoking hot he's on _fire_! Oh Lordy Mama!!"

Carlos was now the complete center of attention, half of the ladies present having heard all about him but not yet having had the opportunity to see him. Even those who had, I suspect, were swept off their feet once again. The man, as I said before, was drop-dead gorgeous and sexy beyond belief. I in fact had to keep pinching myself to remind myself that he was all _mine_. Biblical and otherwise. _Yowsa, Stevie, girl: you done goooooood!_

Mr. Smoking Hot was at his charming best, and I watched as he flashed a slow smile at Stella and began congratulating her on her special day as he gave me a tiny nod of the head to tip me off to the fact that I was to make my escape into my room while the getting was good. I grabbed my overnight bag and scooted while Carlos braved the 'herd of estrogen' and made conquests of each and every woman there.

This is where one would think I had gotten lucky, right? _Wrong. _Because I didn't need to reach into my purse for my key card to get into my room. Nope. It was wide open. And why would _that_ be, I hear you asking yourselves? Because, damn it all to living hell and beyond, _the frickin ass hotel maid was there in my room_!! I had feared this moment ever since we'd decimated the room last night, trashed the sheets with chocolate and cheesecake and just about everything else. And Carlos had torn the pillowcase to make a loincloth, and we'd left Magnum XXL condom wrappers everywhere and oh my God Almighty what else?

It was the moment of truth.

"Hi," I mumbled, trying my damnedest to look innocent amidst the hedonistic remainder of the room. "How ya doin'?"

Great, Steph. Way to go. _How ya doin'? _You can't come up with anything more intelligent than that? _Idiot._

The maid, who resembled my mother so closely I'd almost thought it _was_ Ellen Plum, gave me a look that clearly said, "I know what you did here and you're a Grade A Ho." Then she wheeled the cart out into the hallway and caught sight of Carlos, who had miraculously tamed the entire crazy herd of women in only minutes. Then the maid looked over at me, and I swear---_I swear_---she moaned in appreciation and mouthed what looked to me like "You lucky bitch!"

I was red as a lobster by this time, not just from the hickeys, and I tried to distract myself by grabbing a jersey knit dress that matched my eyes and a pair of heels that made me look less like a streetwalker and more like a nice innocent girl. With hickeys everywhere.

"I've got to take off now, Babe," Carlos tried--unsuccessfully--to maneuver past Tina, who had followed me into the room and was getting ready to start pumping for details. "Have fun at the wedding. I'll call you later, Babe."

Tina's eyes followed him hungrily as I brushed past her and pulled him into a long deep kiss, then waved goodbye as he sauntered down the hotel corridor as if he hadn't just caused a tsunami of female lust.

"That is one exceptionally fine looking hunk of man," Tina announced. She slammed the door behind her, examined me closely and pronounced, "And clearly he fucks as well as he looks. You're a mess, you lucky girl."

"Didn't I _tell_ you?" I wailed, "I just can't be in the wedding looking like _this_!"

"Nikki is a miracle worker, trust me! She made Daffy Daphne's tattoos disappear when she got married in a strapless gown, so she'll make your hickeys go _poof! _too, don't worry about it. And Heather will tame your hair--I take it that Carlos the Magnificent did the packing, or else you'd never have forgotten your hair products."

"He did, and that's _another_ problem. A _big _one! Never mind how it happened," I tried bravely, "but the result is that all I have to wear is a red thong. I know you got some goodies at Victoria's Secret---can I buy a pair of panties from you?"

"Sweetie, I've got you covered. _Literally_," she grinned, "And no charge. I'm gonna get paid by listening to the details of how you lost $75 in panties in one night."

I shook my head, knowing she'd get most of the details out of me (as I'd have pried them out of her), "Good, would you---"

"Got it," she replied, and darted from the room to get the panties.

I used the time to slather myself with moisturizer, apply 10 lbs of hair product, about 20 lbs of makeup (mostly on the hickeys), and by the time she returned, I felt much more confident that I could manage not to completely make a fool of myself in the wedding. Surely if Nikki could get rid of Daphne's biker tattoos, she could make my ever-growing collection of hickeys disappear! And she could take care of the steamer trunks under my eyes. God, did I need coffee…and a makeup magician!

Tina was back, bearing gifts: a pair of ice blue panties that would perfectly match the gown, and three pair of soft pastel colored panties that she handed to me with a reminder that I wasn't checking out of the hotel until Monday morning--and an observation that she could see the red thong through the blue material of my dress.

"You're a lifesaver, Tina," I hugged her then darted into the bathroom with a pair of blue panties. I'd rethought my choice of dresses, seeing exactly what Tina had, but I'd bought this dress especially for the bridal breakfast, and I wanted to wear it. Now, thanks to my BFF, I could.

I'd decided to share some of the details of the night with her, knowing not only that she'd earned them but also that she'd be relentless in dragging them out of me; but as it turns out, I shared more than I'd intended. How did _that_ happen, you wonder? _Oh, take a guess! _Trust me, you'll _never_ see this one coming: _I_ sure as hell didn't, and I _lived_ it.

"OMIGOD! You _tied him up _and fucked him senseless?" Tina's voice was awe-struck and envious at the same time. "Then you made him your _sex slave_? Omigod, omigod, omigod! Stevie, you absolutely _rock_!!!"

I made it out of the bathroom in 2 nanoseconds, but not quickly enough to stop Tina from reading the next piece of paper she'd snatched from the desk, where the frickin' ass maid had picked up the strewn fantasies she'd found---read them (which I refused to think about at the moment)--then deposited them in a neat pile on the desk. Where Tina found them, and was, even as I shrieked in mortification, making her way through the pile in incredulous delight.

"A naughty schoolgirl? Did he _spank_ you? I bet he did," Tina whooped, "Omigod! Omigod! Omigod!"

"_Gimme those_!" I lunged for her and she darted back, reading greedily as I chased her around the room in frantic horror.

Thank God we'd missed meeting the maid cleaning Carlos' room. But I should have thought of the damned fantasies we'd written out down here in my room! Carlos had picked them up from his room and tucked them into his pocket, with a wink that promised he'd be thinking of them through the day. But I swear to God, I _never_ thought of the hotel maid reading the ones in my room and then leaving them stacked neatly on the desk. But I guess she figured we'd be using them again: I had noticed she'd left twice as many towels this time! And an extra pillowcase…..

"Stevie, you lucky devil!! The man has quite an imagination. And from what I've read, so do you! The Wizard of Ahhhs?? Omigod, you finally got your Doomsday Orgasm, didn't you?????"

"Several times," I admitted, then grinned. "He rocked my world, Tina! In more ways than one. He's The One. The man I've waited my whole life for. I love him, he loves me. He's going to war, but he's coming back to me. He promised. And I'm spending the whole weekend with him, so I'm not going into the City with you all tomorrow."

"I'm happy for you, Stevie," Tina's eyes watered, "Didn't I tell you last night that you'd get your happily ever after? I could feel it when I saw the way the man was looking at you! He's crazy in love with you, girl!"

"I don't believe it myself, sometimes. I mean, I wasn't looking for love. You know what I said: I was off men for good after Dick The Prick. And I meant it. Then I bumped into Carlos--literally bumped into him in the bar. And that was it. I fell, head over heels."

"Love at first sight?" asked Tina, wistfully.

"More like _lust_ at first sight," I corrected, "But when we went upstairs, he ordered dinner for us and we started talking and then we started….well, you read the fantasies. You know what we started doing. And doing. It was incredible. I mean, there are no words for how I feel about the man…."

Tina finished reading, then handed them over. "Tuck these away, Sweetie. Save them and read them while he's gone. Like a….I don't know…a postcard memory, or something."

I bit my lip, eyes watering as I held the stack of papers tightly, "Carlos saved his, you know. From when we went upstairs," I explained. "He put them in his pocket and said he was going to think of them today."

"There you go," Tina smiled, "He's crazy about you. And incredibly, he had Bridezilla eating out of his hand in no time. He managed to clear the hall and get the mob to head downstairs…where _we_ need to be, I remind you!"

"So let's go," I slipped my necessities into a new purse, and we made our way to the Queen Anne Salon. Slowly.

Tina giggled wickedly, "You should see how you're walking. Like you just climbed off a horse after a 12 hour marathon ride."

I groaned, "I _did_." And I was feeling every moment of it as I tried unsuccessfully to close my legs and walk normally. Did I say I was confident I wasn't going to make a fool out of myself in the wedding? I lied. I was so going _down_……..

"How big a horse are we talking? Thunder the Wonder horse big?"

"Bigger."

"You're shittin me!"

"I swear to God. He's _enormous_."

"Looks, imagination, sex appeal, charm, huge cock, skill to use it. Okay, what's Mr. Perfect missing? He has to have _some_ kind of flaw. A wife and 10 kids hidden away somewhere?"

"Nope."

"Stella watched 'A Criminal Mind' on cable late last night. After we gave up on 'Naked Came The Stranger'."

"More porn? What's 'A Criminal Mind'?"

"It's the reason she's so damned jumpy, and convinced Carlos was a sex maniac who'd dragged you upstairs and chopped you into tiny pieces."

"I don't get it."

"Some L.A. nut job picked up a woman in a bar and took her upstairs and made mincemeat of her in a hotel---"

"Stella was watching this by choice?"

"At 3am it was either that or an infomercial with Joan Rivers selling her brand of face cream."

"Holy shit!!"

"My sentiments exactly. Talk about _nightmares_."

"So this guy in California killed this woman and---"

"And they didn't catch him until he'd done it 7 other times across the country. They have him on Death Row in Texas and they were doing an interview with him on why he did what he did."

"Which was?"

"He was a nut job, I _told_ you," Tina sighed, "But he looked hot. I mean, Brad Pitt _hot_. So Stella sees this, ruminates on it while she sleeps, calls your room first thing this morning and gets no answer."

"And is convinced, _what_? That the nut job had a twin in NJ?"

"Something like that. Her nerves are fried anyway, what with the wedding today. She's a bundle of hormones. She cries at the drop of a hat, so---"

"_Wonderful_," I groaned, as the elevator deposited us on the second floor and we headed to the Queen Anne Salon to meet our friends. "I can't keep my eyes open, I can't walk, I look like hell and feel even worse. And I don't dare say a word to the bride lest she start crying up a monsoon and her eyes puff up so badly that Nikki can't fix it."

"That about sums it up," Tina laughed, "I was so ready to bat her in the head, she was doing Niagara Falls and I couldn't stand a minute more of it. She was pounding on your door, shouting, and she drew a crowd. You're lucky she didn't notify Hotel Security and send out a search party."

"Oh, Christ. That's _all_ I'd have needed. Hey! Guess who's here at the hotel? I'll give you a hint: x + y = z."

"Algebra?"

"_Miss Minardo, stop chewing gum immediately. You resemble a cow chewing grass and I do not teach bovine Algebra_."

"Good old Fred Higgenbottom? I thought he was dead!"

"Nope, he's alive. Like 102 and he looks just as frightening as he did when we had him sophomore year of high school. And guess who spotted yours truly looking like I was when _you_ saw me. Or even worse."

"I don't need a hint. Fred Higgenbottom!"

"With the little Mrs. Who, by the way, damned near fainted at the sight of Carlos shirtless."

"She wouldn't be the only one." Tina drooled, "He's ripped, huh?"

"Not an ounce of fat anywhere on his body," I sighed dreamily, "Not an ounce _anywhere_."

"I take it you've seen _anywhere_ enough to memorize the sight of it…."

"I've seen, touched and tasted any_where_ and anyt_hing_," I grinned wickedly, "And I earned every damned hickey I got."

"I hate you, you lucky bitch."

"No you don't. You're living vicariously through me."

"Damned straight I am. So how many orgasms did vicarious me have last night?"

"Too damned many to count. But vicarious you is deliciously satisfied and so not looking forward to this damned wedding. I dread putting on that gown….."

"Forget the gown, Sweetie, it's the damned hair wreath _I'm _dreading."

"No one could talk her out of it? I was trusting Ruby and Melinda."

"They tried their best, trust me. But Stella's holding firm to it. We're going to look like damned fools with wreaths of flowers and streaming ribbons in our hair, but that's what we get for agreeing to be bridesmaids in the first place."

"At least this dress is prettier than the one Kelly picked out for her bridesmaids. Remember _that _one?"

"God, do I ever! And the ugly ass taxi cab yellow bow hanging off my boobs! Whoever designed that dress deserves a slow painful death."

"There is a special level of hell for designers who hate women and design dresses anyway."

"_Preach it, Stevie_!"

We'd arrived at the doors of the Queen Anne Salon by now, and Tina gave me a conspiratorial wink, "I got your back, Sweetie!"

And she did. Always. That's what friends are for.


	28. Chapter 28

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 28

_Carlos' POV_

I had a busy day ahead of me, but I'd started it perfectly: waking up spooned with Stephanie in front of me, my body molded to hers and my arm around her waist. I'd set the alarm on my watch for 7am, but had been---uncharacteristically for me--too lazy to get out of bed then. Instead, I'd just lain there for almost an hour, breathing her in, listening to her soft moans--I was sure her dreams were of me because I'd heard my name on her lips several times--and thinking about what I needed to do to keep her safe and protected while I was gone. I'd made some important decisions, and today I intended to implement them. Not that Stephanie would know a thing about it. But that was the point: I wanted Stephanie safe and well while I was gone. And cared for, in the all-too-likely event that I could not return to her.

I'd planned to visit with some Army buddies for breakfast, then meet with my lawyer to update my Will. Fortunately for me, my attorney is almost a brother to me: Mateo is the eldest son of one of my mother's 2 sisters. I'd gone to live with their family when my father had thrown me out of the house over the gang fight that had landed me in Juvie Hall. I'd lived with them for almost 6 years before I finally joined the Army and straightened myself out. Mateo had become more than a cousin to me, he was my second brother, and I trusted him more than I trusted anyone to do what I'd decided was necessary now that Stephanie was my woman.

After coffee and a long discussion, with my Will updated and some legal issues addressed, Mateo and I would then head to my parents' house for the Manoso family gathering. My mother and grandmother, I was certain, were already cooking for the legion of people who would assemble this afternoon: my 5 siblings had all married and had children, and although my father was an only child, my mother had been one of 4, so her brothers and sisters and their families would also be there. It was common to have close to 50 people at a family gathering, and it usually got pretty loud and lively. I hoped to hell I could stay awake for it: I desperately needed coffee because the 2 hours or so of sleep I'd had were definitely not enough. But, _damn_, it had been worth it!

I thought of Steph again, naked and begging me to make love to her, and I smiled happily. _Happily. _What a concept! Me, happy? Smiling ear to ear? _Amazing. _I would be lucky if my Army buddies recognized this man; I had a well-earned reputation as a bad ass who could make grown men cry with just a look. I didn't feel like a bad ass today, though. I felt lighter, mellower, like I'd shed 50 lbs of worry and had the whole world at my feet. I was in love for the first time in my life, with a woman who was my soul mate. A strong woman who meant more to me than she could possibly know. I didn't deserve her, but I sure as hell was going to spend the rest of my life earning the privilege of being her man.

They were standing by the entrance to the hotel's restaurant when I stepped off the elevator, and I walked over to them briskly. The four men who'd agreed to meet me this morning were good friends from my days with Army Special Forces, before I'd gone on to Delta Force a few years ago. They all had family in the Newark area, and--having just returned from various assignments overseas--were taking a couple of weeks of R and R before heading back to Fort Bragg, NC to the Headquarters that Special Forces and Delta Force shared. I was glad to see them, and they were just as pleased to see me.

We shook hands, having not seen each other in many long months, and walked into the restaurant to enjoy breakfast. All were about my age, and we'd bonded early on because we shared the same Cuban heritage and were all from the same area of northern NJ. I'd been guests at their families' dinner tables numerous times over the years, and had been welcomed as an honorary brother. They were good men; I was fortunate to know them.

"You look damned good, Superman. Better than I expected, honestly. I heard about how FUBAR'd your last mission was." Antonio assessed me critically, as he was trained to do. "Rodriguez bought it?"

I nodded, "Ricky and a lot of other good men. Just a handful of us got out alive--and we were damned good and lucky. If I ever find the son of a bitch who screwed up the Intel, I'll kill him with my bare hands."

"You'd have to wait in a long line to do that," Manuel replied, "Sanchez and Avila were fine men. They both had young families; Juan was just about to become a father for the second time. Luisa is having a rough time of it, they thought she was going to lose the baby for a bit there."

"God damn suits! What the fuck do they know about the guys on the ground? Not a damned thing," muttered Javier.

"They don't know their asses from their elbows," groused Diego. "But I think maybe Superman would rather not be reminded of all this right now, considering he has to ship out again on Monday?" He looked to me for confirmation, and I nodded.

"You just finished a mission, why the hell are they sending you out again so soon?" Manuel asked. "You should have some R and R. What's the big hurry?"

"Something I've been following for awhile," I replied quietly, knowing he understood the sensitive nature of the information, "Suffice to say some recent developments moved up the timetable on a long-standing plan. This is going to be a bad one, though. Very bad." It was my way of saying that this might be the last time we'd ever meet. There was a moment of silence, and all the men nodded. Enough said.

The waitress approached to take our orders, and we were served coffee immediately. Thank God. I needed it badly. I wondered how Steph was faring at her bridal breakfast, and I guess I must have gotten an uncharacteristic spacey look on my face because Manuel interrupted, "Hey! Superman! You still with us?"

I nodded, smiling. That's what did it: the smile. The men knew me well, and never--I mean _never_--did I smile. But I couldn't stop smiling at the thought of my time with Steph last night, this morning briefly in the shower--and the anticipation of our time together tonight and through to Monday morning. Suddenly I wasn't thinking about much else: I was trying to design the perfect day for us to share on Sunday. A day that would give us 18 months worth of memories….

"Yeah, what's up, Carlos?" Antonio pressed. "You look…tired, sure, but there's something else. You're…."

"_Happy_," I finished for him, seeing the surprise on the faces of all of my friends. "Very happy. The happiest I've ever been in my life, in fact. I'm in love with an incredible woman."

"In love? _You_?" Manuel's voice was incredulous. "Is this some kind of a joke?"

"Superman?" Diego shook his head in confusion, "Mr. _I-Don't-Do-Relationships_? _Love-'em-and-leave-'em Manoso_? I don't believe it."

"No joke," I said firmly, "I love her, she loves me, and when my tour of duty is over, she's going to be my wife. And one day, God willing, she'll be the mother of my children. Stephanie Mazur Manoso. And I need your help with something to keep her safe while I'm gone."

There was a moment while everyone adjusted to the admittedly-incredible concept of me as a married man. Hell, I couldn't blame them. Then Antonio said quietly, "Whatever you need. Name it." The others nodded.

"Stephanie's got an ex-husband named Richard Orr. He's a lawyer in Chambersburg; shouldn't be too hard for you to find him. Apparently his divorce from Steph was a big event in town. Bastard cheated on her shortly after they married. He screwed some bimbo on their dining room table and Steph walked in on them. She raised holy hell about it, and the marriage ended pretty publicly from what she says."

"He sounds like a real prick," Manuel interjected, "But I don't see what this has to do with Stephanie now. They got divorced, she moved on, clearly. Kids in the picture?"

"No," I sipped my coffee, "No kids. Thank God."

"What, then? He didn't move on?" Diego asked, "Is he stalking her?"

I shook my head, "Not that I know of. Or not yet, anyway--the divorce is very recent. He abused her physically and emotionally throughout the marriage. Financially screwed her, too. But Steph's mother _adores_ him--the stupid bitch. Browbeats Steph constantly about Orr, how she was lucky to have married him, how she should take whatever he dishes out and be a loyal doormat…a woman's duty…that sort of thing."

"Fucking hell," Antonio muttered, "Some mother."

"Yeah," Manuel nodded, "I'm starting to get the picture, I think. You expect her mother to keep pushing Stephanie back to this guy, and you want us to make sure it doesn't happen?"

"Something like that. There's more to it than I've told you," I exhaled, then quietly told them about the times Dickie had almost anally raped Steph. Physically abusing her afterwards. And the emotional blackmail of the visit to the parish priest that he'd set up to make Stephanie return to give the marriage another chance. The men looked murderous when I'd finished. "I want Dickie Orr to get payback for _all_ of that. If I were going to be here after Monday, I'd do it myself. But I'll be gone for 18 months…"

"And you want the message to go out to Dickie---" Antonio said.

"Who the fuck still calls himself '_Dickie_'?? Fucking pussy," Manuel interrupted. "Gets off on terrorizing women? I'll be glad to teach _Dickie_ a lesson."

"Me too," added Diego. "Sounds like he deserves to be taught to respect women."

"Count me in," Antonio agreed. "I gather we are to pass on the message that he is to stay away from your woman from now on?"

"That's what I want," I nodded, "I'd feel better if I were sure he was out of Steph's life."

"For good?" Javier questioned.

I knew what he was asking. "No," I shook my head, "I don't want him dead. Just hurt badly enough that he gets the message that what he did to Steph cost him dearly, and that he understands that it had better never happen again."

"Understood," Diego said quietly. "I can get the information on Orr's address with no problem, and the guys and I will pay him a little visit."

"Dickie will learn to stay far away from your woman, Carlos," Antonio promised me.

"Thanks. I appreciate it. I want her safe. She's the most important person in the world to me," I said, and meant it. Without Steph in it, my life wouldn't be worth living.

"Wow, I never thought I'd see the day that you of all people would be thinking marriage and kids," Diego smiled, "But hey, I can't think of anyone who deserves happiness more, Carlos."

"That's for sure," Antonio replied, "Superman, you've saved my ass more times than I can count. You've been there for me from day one in Special Forces, when I knew nobody and nothing. I've got your back in this. You want your lady Stephanie safe, she'll be safe."

"Amen," Manuel chimed in. "You've had my back for years, Carlos. I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you. So count me in on the Stephanie protection team."

"And me," Javier said, "I owe you more than I can pay back, so whatever it takes, I'm in."

"Stephanie Mazur, huh?" asked Diego. "So, what's she like? Gorgeous, that goes without saying. But what makes her so special?"

"She makes me laugh," I said softly, "She brings me joy. Until I met Steph, I had no idea what love meant. The 'till death do you part' kind of thing. I just couldn't grasp that concept. Spending the rest of your life with only one woman. Committing yourself totally to someone else, opening yourself up in ways you never have before with anyone…" I spoke softly, forgetting for a few minutes I was in the company of men who had never seen me emotionally vulnerable. "I didn't expect it. I didn't want it to happen because it wasn't convenient. But I love her and I want a life with her. So I'm trying to keep her safe and well until I get home to her again." I finished, looking sheepishly up at the group who were all staring at me in total shock.

"She's one hell of a woman," Antonio said, smiling.

"Damned straight," I replied, "Want to see her picture?"

There were eager nods all around, so I pulled out my camera phone and showed them the picture Stephanie had allowed me to take last night: she had posed in my shirt just after we'd made love, her face still rosy, hair mussed, her lips swollen from my kisses with a smile on them that made my heart beat double time. And those hot as hell over the knee boots that got me hard just thinking about her in them. It was a damned fine picture, and got the reception it deserved.

"Lucky bastard," sighed Javier.

"Holy mother of God," moaned Manuel.

"Dios," Antonio blew a slow breath out.

"Does she have a sister?" asked Diego.

"Yes, but she takes after her mother. Stepford wife type. Nothing like my Babe. Steph is fire and magic and excitement and….."

"Superman's definitely in love," Antonio laughed, "God, I never thought I'd see the day."

"Retiring the little black book," teased Javier.

"I want it," Manuel exclaimed, "Carlos attracts the hottest women, now that he's off the market, they're going to be very lonely."

"Not for you, though," Diego grinned, "Superman has special powers we mortal men can only dream of aspiring to."

I laughed, enjoying the teasing. My many sexual conquests were, after all, widely known among my friends. But now that I had Stephanie in my life, no other woman would do. Damn, _that _felt good to realize! I'd endured her herd of lust-filled co-workers with amusement, but honestly not one of them had held my attention for even one second. I was now officially and permanently a One-woman Man. And I loved the feeling!

The meal passed amicably, it was over too soon, and we rose to part. I paid for the breakfast, as was our tradition (whoever hosted paid the bill). We walked back to the lobby, drawing admiring glances from all of the women (and a few of the men) there. None of us wore Army uniforms or sported regulation military haircuts, because we were Special Forces. But I'm certain that our bearing gave away that we were military: we were all well muscled and in excellent shape, and walked with the confidence of those who knew they could take on any adversary and come out victorious. Hell, I'd even woken up, thanks to 4 cups of steaming hot coffee. How long I was going to be able to stay awake…that was a different story. It was going to be a long day at Casa Manoso.

I was just saying goodbye to the last of my friends when Mateo arrived, an ear to ear grin on his face. We hadn't seen each other in almost twenty months because of my deployment and his busy schedule. We hugged briefly, and he stepped back to look at me.

"You look great," he opined, "Tired, but---"

"So I've just been told," I replied, remembering Antonio's comments. "You look well. Good to see you, Mat. It's been too long. Thanks for coming out before the big to-do. I wanted to get this done quietly, without Mama, Abuela and the girls knowing about it."

Mateo nodded, and we moved over to sit while I examined the legal papers I'd asked him to prepare.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Carlos?" he asked.

"Give you my legal power of attorney? And medical power of attorney as well? Positive. I trust you with everything, Mat. You know that."

I was paid well for my work, and had accumulated quite a nest egg thanks to my frugal living and my good investments. I dreamed one day of starting my own security company, in partnership with several Army buddies who were in Delta Force with me. Tank (whose real name was Pierre), Bobby, Lester and I had discussed it numerous times, and--provided we survived our tours of duty in Delta Force--one day we planned to make that dream a reality. Originally, the plan had been to open the office in Newark, where many of us had family. But for some reason--a gorgeous blue-eyed brunette came immediately to mind--Trenton was suddenly looking much more attractive to me than Newark.

"I'll be out of touch for 18 months or more after Monday morning," I told him, "But I need something important done before I leave. I need your help with it, Mat. I met a woman. _The_ woman. The one I want to spend the rest of my life with."

Mateo's expressive brown eyes widened, "You met someone? Who? When? No one's said a thing about it, and I'd have heard---"

"They don't know about her, and I want to keep it that way," I said firmly, "I met Stephanie yesterday---"

"_Yesterday_?" Mateo's voice was incredulous. "And you---"

"I know what you're thinking, _all _of it," I interrupted, "And you're wrong. So save your breath: I know _exactly_ what I'm doing. Steph's different than any woman I've ever met, Mat. Sexy and funny and sweet and loving and warm and smart and compassionate. And she makes me happier than I've ever been in my life. I love her. She loves me. When I get back, she and I are going to be married. She's _It _for me, Mat. The only woman I want for the rest of my life. Stephanie Mazur. In 18 months and one day--if I'm lucky--Stephanie Mazur _Manoso_."

Mat sat there speechless. I'd never in my life opened up this much to him, or to anyone else. But I had no time: I needed his help and I needed it _now_. There was no time to debate the wisdom of my decisions, or for him to meet Stephanie and get to know her to form his own opinions about her. He just needed to take my word for it. And Mat, being Mat, did just that: he trusted my judgment, as I trusted his.

"I'm glad for you, Carlos. What do you need me to do?"

"I want to change the beneficiary on my insurance policies to Stephanie. And change my Will so that everything goes to her."

"But what I have here---" he picked up the document he'd drafted according to my request days earlier.

"I know, that leaves it all to be distributed equally to Mama, Papa, Alex and the girls. But I need you to change that. You have it there on your laptop, don't you?"

"Yeah, I can make the changes and print it out when we go to the party. Your father will let me use his printer, I can say it's an emergency. He won't have to know what the document is or who it's for, if that is how you want to play it."

"I'm thinking he _will _need to know," I said slowly, "I need to let Papa and Alex know how serious this particular mission is----"

Mat's eyes darkened, "Bad?"

"Let's just say, I need to get that Will updated before I leave Monday," I said, answering his question.

"_God damn it all, Carlos! _You just got back from an 18 month mission!"

"It's necessary, Mat, trust me. I have no regrets, it needs to be done. But I want Steph protected and cared for, should something happen to me. I need Papa and Alex and you to know how much Stephanie means to me, so that if the Will comes into play, no one is broad-sided by her name as my beneficiary."

"Except for your Mama, your Abuela and your sisters," Mateo reminded me, "And my Mama and the kids and---"

"It's necessary," I interrupted, "18 months is a hell of a long time, Mat. I know what I feel for Steph and what she feels for me will last that long. But if Mama or Abuela or the girls know I have someone, they'll make her life a living hell until I get back. They'll want to know everything about her, they'll interject themselves into her life and pull her into theirs---"

"And that's a bad thing? I _know_ you aren't ashamed of your family," Mateo said, puzzled, "Don't you want your woman--Stephanie--to take her place in your family while you're gone?"

"Mat," I looked at him honestly, "Can you picture Mama with the news that I had my potential wife picked out the evening I first met her? That we met in a bar for a one night stand and that she isn't a bimbo, she's a sweet innocent girl-next-door with a body that happens to be to-die-for? Can you really picture Abuela Rosa or Celia with that information? Or Pilar? Maria? Lena? Any of the women in the family?"

"That's what happened?" Mateo bit his lip.

I told him an abridged and very sanitized version of my meeting with Stephanie and our evening together, and launched into a long rhapsodic dissertation on her exceptional splendor. Followed by a display of the shirt and boots picture.

Mateo's expressive eyes darkened, "You lucky bastard."

"Exactly." I smiled, "But the thing is--she's _different_. I thought I could walk away and never look back. Go off to war and probably never come back--" He started to interrupt, and I held up my hand. "That was the plan, and we both signed on for it. But somewhere early last night I changed, Mat. I mean _changed_. Overnight. I want a life with her. I'm going to _have_ a life with her, no matter what it takes. She kicked my ass when I told her I couldn't commit to us because I was going to die over there. She won't let me, Mat! She won't let me give up. And she gives me the reason not to. She's--Christ, I never thought there was such a thing as a soul mate, let alone that I would ever meet her, but _she is my soul mate_. She's the other half of me, Mat. And I can't function on that mission without knowing for sure that Stephanie is safe and protected and cared for while I'm gone."

Mateo sat for a long moment digesting my uncharacteristic emotionalism. "_Wow. _I've known you all of my life, Carlos, and you've never said that many words at one time. Or spoken about any woman the way you speak about your Stephanie. She clearly is a hell of a woman."

"She is all that and more," I assured him.

"And I don't get to meet her?" Mateo said, wistfully. "I get she's off limits to the women--and frankly, I can see why: you're right, they'd be on her 24/7 the entire time you were gone. Watching, waiting for her to slip up. Worried she wasn't good enough for you. Or even worse---"

"Deciding she _was_ and then ganging up against me when I get home," I grinned, "Look, I honestly believe that once the family gets to know Steph, they'll love her. They will. But there isn't time for that now. I want her to live her life without pressure from Mama and Abuela and the girls. And if she should decide that she's changed her mind about waiting for me, then I want her to be free to make that decision without their judgments getting in the way and making her feel guilty about it."

"But you don't think she will change her mind?"

"I know damned well she _won't_," I smiled, remembering our long deep conversations on the subject.

"You didn't answer my question about meeting Steph. If I promise not to fall in love with this paragon of womanhood, can I meet her before your wedding 18 months from now?"

"Depends on whether you can meet her and not mention that you're family," I decided, another thought coming into my mind. Or rather, an old thought from this morning taking on a new shape. "I need to tell Papa and Alex about her, and we both know they'll have even more reservations about her than you did."

"Very true," Mat said, knowing my Papa's old World ways quite well. "The story of how you met will need to change drastically."

I sighed, "For sure. But it has to be enough for them to understand that I don't want Steph pulled into the family or pressured to be a Vestal Virgin at the altar of the absent Saint Carlos."

"Only Abuela Rosa thinks of you that way," Mateo laughed.

"I was always her favorite," I grinned, "_She's _the one who'd be the most dangerous. If I ever told Abuela how I met Steph---"

"Yeah, got the picture," Mateo held up his hand, "It ain't pretty."

"No, it sure _isn't_," I agreed, "So what I'm thinking is this: she's got a wedding to attend today and a reception tonight--she's a bridesmaid, like I told you--but tomorrow I have her for the whole day."

"And night," Mateo teased, "Lucky bastard!"

I sure was: and he didn't know about the fantasies we'd lived out, either!

"I can take her to the restaurant for dinner tomorrow evening," I suggested. "You can pretend to accidentally run into us, and I'll introduce you as a friend. Our last names are different, she won't connect the two of us as family. And I can introduce Papa to her since he is the owner of _Rosa's_, and Alex is the chef. My Babe loves to eat, she'll go crazy over the food and then we can have Tomas say that the chef wanted to meet her."

Tomas was my older sister Celia's son, he worked at the family restaurant as a waiter. See, that's what I hadn't told Stephanie when I gave her the history of my family problems: I'd told her that my grandfather had started a business and that my father, as his only son, naturally went into the family business and expected his two sons to do the same. What I _hadn't_ told her was that my grandfather was a gourmet chef and that he'd opened a Cuban restaurant that he'd named after his wife (my grandmother) Rosa. And that my father Ricardo took over the business duties so my grandfather could concentrate entirely on cooking. Alex was now the chef at _Rosa's_, with my father teaching him everything he could so that the restaurant would pass on the Manoso family traditions of excellent food and fine dining. I, having no interest at all in cooking, was expected to take on the business duties in the restaurant so that Alex could train as a chef. I rebelled, and thus the feud that had continued until my grandmother had finally ended it upon my grandfather's death.

It had been a long 4 years since then, but we were moving closer to acceptance of each other's choices. Or, rather, my choice to plan a future outside of the family business. I was going to take a big chance introducing Stephanie into the mix, but I thought it was necessary. If anything happened to me, as was unfortunately likely, she was the one that I wanted to inherit all of the not-inconsiderable money I had accumulated. And Papa and Alex--with Mateo's help--were going to have to explain exactly who Stephanie was, to my Mama, my Abuela, my sisters and the rest of the interested parties in the Manoso family. (Frankly, I'd better live through this mission in order to avoid that disastrous scenario alone.)

When I returned from my mission--hopefully well and healthy after 18 months in the Middle East--I would return to Steph's arms, make love to her for a minimum of 12 hours at least, then take her to my family and introduce her as the woman I loved. And invite them to the wedding that, in my mind at least, would happen 24 hours later. _Okay, so I'm thinking with my heart not my head for the first time--cut me a break, here! _I was playing out various scenarios in my head, and this seemed to me to be the best way to handle it. As I said, I didn't have much time--or much sleep--so I went with my gut. It usually was the right decision, and I prayed this time it would be the same.

Mateo looked at me as if I were out of my mind, and asked incredulously, "And you really see your father and Alex both agreeing to this crazy plan of yours, Carlos? Meeting Stephanie for a few minutes to discuss how great the meal was, and then saying '_Goodbye, stop in again sometime and be sure to recommend us to your friends._' And that's that?"

"It actually sounded a whole lot smarter when I first thought it up," I admitted sadly. But then I'd been running on 2 hours sleep at the time…..

"I agree, you're damned right: they _are _going to insist on meeting Stephanie if you tell them about her and they've watched you sign a Will leaving her all of your worldly goods," Mateo exhaled, "So let's see what we have, here, shall we? We go to your parents' home. I ask if I can print out a document. While it's printing, you explain to your father and brother what it is and what it says. Then you sign the Will--hell, you can even let them witness it. Then you broker this ridiculous deal that they can meet Stephanie for a few minutes over dinner provided they don't tell her they're your family."

"And they don't tell Mama, Abuela and the girls about any of it." I added. "Yeah, best case scenario, that's how I see it going."

"Worse case scenario?" Mateo invited.

"I tell them about her, Papa calls me a damned fool and Steph a whore, I storm out in fury, Mama runs after me and tries to settle the fight while Alex looks pained and the girls press for details on what the hell is going on and who Stephanie Mazur is---"

"And Abuela Rosa takes Saint Carlito's side over everybody's. _Until_, that is, she learns Stephanie is your potential bride whom you met less than 24 hours ago and haven't introduced to the family--even though we're having a family gathering this afternoon and Stephanie is staying at the same hotel you are. And then all hell breaks loose and they all spend the next 18 months hunting down Stephanie Mazur and vetting her to decide if she is worthy of your hand in marriage."

"That about covers it," I agreed, a pained expression on my face. _Shit._

"I'm now seriously rethinking the part about you being a lucky bastard," Mateo laughed, shaking his head, "Can I see that smokin' hot picture with the boots again?"

"Will you just change the damned Will and get this upcoming train-wreck on the tracks?" I groaned.

"It's gonna be a fun afternoon at Casa Manoso," my cousin sighed.

As Steph would say: _crappity, crap, crap_!

And _then_ some.


	29. Chapter 29

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_A/N: This chapter includes a discussion of some of the traditions of a Jewish wedding. I'm Catholic, this is my best effort of describing it, after internet research. Please forgive any inaccuracies…_

Chapter 29

"You are a true miracle worker," I sighed happily, as Nikki expertly covered all of my hickeys and then began work on the steamer trunks I carried under my eyes. Thanks to the 3 cups of coffee I'd consumed at the bridal breakfast, I was actually _awake_; thanks to Nikki's wizardry, I was actually beginning to be hopeful that I wouldn't be mortally embarrassed all day. I was so grateful I was ready to kiss her feet in gratitude--or at the very least, promise her my first-born child!

"Yes I am. But _you_, my dear….you are _legend_," Nikki grinned. "If I couldn't cover those hickeys of yours, you could always wear them as badges of honor. From all I heard from your friends, that man of yours has to be the hottest guy who ever walked the planet! Looks like you got your world rocked last night, and _then_ some!"

I tried and failed to keep from beaming ear to ear, "Carlos is totally _amazing_….."

"And more than worth the 20 or so minutes of sleep you managed to catch last night, huh?" Nikki stepped back to admire her handiwork with a smile.

I grinned back in relief. "I can't thank you enough," I said, for what had to be the dozenth time. "I was so sure I'd look like a slut and my mother would somehow hear about it, and then I'd be grounded for life." Or at the very least cut off from pineapple upside down cake, which would be even _worse_. Did I happen to mention that I _love_ pineapple upside down cake??

"I advise you to main-line coffee and skip the alcohol," Nikki waved me out of the chair as Tina sat herself down for her makeup session. "And don't lean your face against your hand or you might fall asleep and topple face forward onto the table during the reception. That would ruin your makeup, and all my magic would be for naught."

"It's Tina's job to keep me wide awake throughout this wedding and the reception that follows," I decided, catching my best friend's knowing eye. "I promised her all of the dirty details of my night of sin. The least she can do to earn them is keep my poor tired ass awake."

"Works for me," Tina agreed, "So long as I get the XXX rated version, that is. And I know enough to tell if you're skipping important details," she winked at me, mimicking reading the scraps of paper on which Carlos and I had immortalized our fantasies.

"You'll get the unabridged version, all right," I promised, "In fact, girlfriend, I'm feeling so blissfully happy right now, I'll even share the photographic evidence with you."

"_OMIGOD! _You have pictures of Carlos _naked_???" Tina's voice was so loud I wanted to muzzle her. But it was, alas, too late: we were surrounded by half a dozen or so lustful women in no time.

"NO! Not naked," I waved the horde of women away, "Just with no shirt on."

"_Well?? _Where the hell is this picture? Or did it melt the camera already?" Tina made a grab for my hand, which--after I'd quickly rummaged through my purse---now held my phone.

I'd taken a shot of Carlos using my camera phone, just minutes after he'd taken one of me in his shirt and my _too-slutty-for-words _boots. He was leaning against the bathroom door jam, his ripped-beyond-belief chest naked and his smile more than enticing. It was a come-hither smile that left no doubt what was going to happen to me when I _got_ there. The picture was hotter and sexier than anything I'd ever seen in Playgirl, and DAMN--the man was _mine_! I was a very lucky girl, I reminded myself for what had to be the hundredth time today.

The ooohs and aaahs of the bridal party testified to the picture's hotness quotient, and I sighed happily, my mind taken back to some of the previous evening's (and early morning's) activities. I was tempted to call Carlos just to tell him that I loved him, but decided that would be rubbing it in the face of my army of drooling compatriots, so I settled instead for kissing the picture and returning my phone to the safety of my tiny beaded purse.

"_So_?" newly-arrived April looked at me speculatively.

I studiously examined my nails, now perfectly decorated in Passionate Pink. "So _what_?" I teased.

"What's he like?" April asked, a wicked gleam in her eye.

"What's _who _like?" Grinning, I pretended not to know what she was asking. In fact, I'd already fended off questions about Carlos' sexual skills from everyone else who'd seen him in the hallway outside my room, it was only that April had been otherwise engaged that had prevented me from being confronted with her questions sooner.

"The hot Latino Studmuffin," April prodded, "Is he as good as he looks?"

"_Better_," I smirked, "And that's all I'm going to say about it to you."

"Come on, not fair," she whined, "I'll tell you all about my boyfriend Dougie."

"I don't want to hear about a grown man who calls himself '_Dougie_'," I replied, my mind thinking back unhappily to Dickie Orr. "Besides, what happened to the concept of privacy?"

"Doesn't apply between friends. Not for sexual things," April insisted, "Particularly when I heard you screaming '_Carlos, I'm coming_' at least a dozen times in the wee early hours of this morning and I didn't call hotel security once to complain you were keeping me awake."

My face grew red, and I looked over to Tina for help. Big mistake.

"Go on--show her the picture of Studmuffin shirtless," Tina urged. "You know you want to pull it out again and drool over him."

I fished my cell phone out of my purse and produced the blazingly hot photo of Carlos. Damn, but I did enjoy looking at the man!!

"_I hate you_," April moaned to me teasingly. "He's a god among men. And you had him all to yourself for hours and hours, and did all sorts of obscenely pleasurable things to that gorgeous body of his--_admit it_!"

"I sure did," I grinned happily, "And the minute I ditch you losers tonight, I'm going to do even _more_ obscene things…."

"And then you're going to tell me all about them tomorrow," Tina interjected, as Nikki finished off her makeup and waved Amanda into the chair next.

Amanda tossed herself down in the chair and asked excitedly, "Did you guys hear the fight between Stella and her mother just after the breakfast ended?"

"_Are you kidding? _I think _everyone_ heard them going at it," Melinda looked over at Stella's cousin Moira, who was chatting animatedly with Ruby on the other side of the room. Where Stella herself was now was _anyone's_ guess: she'd been in a piss-ass mood all morning, getting into one row after another with whoever she happened to be with. "Moira says her witch of a mother is threatening to walk out on the wedding because Stella isn't going the traditional route."

"It's a little late for that, isn't it?" I wondered, "She's had _months_ to stage her protest over Stella's decision; why on Earth would she wait until the morning of her daughter's wedding day?"

"Because she's a royal bitch with massive control issues. Stella told me it's been _beyond_ rocky for months with her mother," Melinda confided. "They've been going at it like prizefighters all along, and Stella just lets it roll off her back. _Usually. _Until this morning, that is: when her mother told her that Rabbi Kirschbaum and his wife showed up at their house yesterday afternoon and told her that Stella was a disgrace to Jews everywhere because she was holding the wedding on the Sabbath."

"A disgrace to Jews _everywhere_?" Tina snorted in disgust, "Somehow I think the Rabbi has a gift for over-exaggeration, don't you? Most Jews have other things to worry about than when Stella Markowitz is having her wedding, I dare say. Or at least they _should_."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" I said, shaking my head in amazement. No wonder Stella was a nervous wreck! Her own mother was sabotaging her wedding!

"Rabbi Kirschbaum just won't get past the fact that Stella and Patrick are having their wedding on the Sabbath. Moira told me he had the nerve to tell Mrs. Markowitz that they need to attend another synagogue if Stella actually has the gall to go through with this." Melinda related, "And Moira says that Stella's maternal grandmother has refused to come--at the very last minute, mind you! Said 'no' this morning, just like that. Said God wouldn't forgive her if she spit in His face and attended the ceremony after the Rabbi's pronouncement yesterday!"

"Poor Stella!" Tina shook her head, "She and Patrick planned this day for months, paid for it themselves, and they've tried to work in traditions from his Irish Catholic family and her Russian Jewish family. And what do they get for their trouble?"

"_More _trouble, ladies!" Moira interjected, joining us just as Amanda finished in the chair and it was time for Moira to get her makeup done.

"_Now_ what?" I wondered, "Did her mother actually walk out after all?"

"Not yet," Moira sighed unhappily, "But she _will_, count on it. Aunt Esther is stubborn that way. And a huge Drama Queen. Right now she's locked in her room, and Stella---gown, veil and all---ran upstairs to talk to her. _Bitch. _I'd let her walk--but then, she isn't my mother from Hell, thank God almighty!"

"I can't believe she would deliberately ruin her daughter's wedding," I said in amazement. "All over the fact that the wedding is on a Saturday??"

"It's a big no-no for Jews to marry on the Sabbath," Moira explained to us, "The fact that Stella has been non-practicing for ages means _nothing_ to Aunt Esther. It's all about '_what will everyone think_?'"

"Oh, shit! I can understand _that_," I groaned, imagining my mother's reaction if Father Cowen had shown up at her door and told her she had to stop attending Saint Stephen's because her youngest daughter had disgraced the family by doing one thing or another. _I'd_ be in Stella's shoes; and somehow my mother would turn my wedding day into another '_why me_?' event. I felt miserable for my friend, who didn't deserve this---especially when I knew that she'd knocked herself out to make both families feel welcome.

"It sucks donkey balls," Moira admitted. "They tried to work around it by planning the wedding for late Saturday night---technically no longer the Sabbath. But the hotel was booked solid, so Stella and Patrick had no choice but to go with this afternoon as planned. See, the thing is, from the get-go, Patrick's family wanted the wedding to happen on Saturday, not on Sunday. They're all from out of state--most of them are from Colorado and Wyoming--and they have to travel back home in time to be at work Monday morning. So Saturday early afternoon works best for them. And Stella and Patrick wanted to accommodate them: thus the situation we're in now. Either Stella has her family all there on Sunday and Patrick's family are MIA; or else his is there Saturday and the ultra Orthodox members of her family are boycotting. Real _lose-lose _situation, yes?"

"_Yes_," Tina muttered, "Anyone but me think that a lot of damage is done in God's name by people who speak for Him, but act anything but kind to their neighbors? Or _family_, in this case. Poor Stella!"

"Makes my worry of not staying awake today seem really petty, that's for sure," I admitted sadly.

"Honey, you aren't going to fall asleep during _this _wedding, trust me," Moira promised, "There's too much upset and confusion going to be happening!"

"I hear you're standing us all up tomorrow for Carlos the Shirtless Wonder Hunk," Ruby now took her place in the chair, winking at Tina. "I'm wondering how you can miss our happy little trek into the City to see _Mamma Mia! _followed by dinner, just because some hotter than hot naked Studmuffin promises you several dozen orgasms or so."

"It was a tough decision to make between the two," I snorted, "but hey, I'm happy with my choice."

"I'll just bet you are, you shameless over-sexed little hussy," Ruby grinned, her eyebrows wagging, "Where's the Hunk right about now? Sleeping, totally exhausted after pleasuring you all night long?"

"Nope. He had some kind of important function he couldn't get out of," I shrugged my shoulders, "Meeting some Army buddies of his before he goes overseas again." I was actually wondering what Carlos considered as _can't break _plans…not that I'd been nosy enough to ask him, that is. Hell, I didn't even know what his last name was yet, I reminded myself again! I needed to forget sexing him up long enough to ask him that while I still could!

"This is going to be a _nightmare_," Moira sighed, "A true nightmare of a wedding, followed by a mess of a reception. Forget for a minute the never-ending clash between Stella and Aunt Esther all the way through this. And Rabbi Kirschbaum's happy little '_do it my way or else_' contribution to the whole thing. Trust me: that mish-mash of a ceremony Stella and Patrick have concocted will end up getting _everyone _upset, one way or the other. Just wait and see!"

"Amen, amen," Ruby agreed, "I tried to tell her she was asking for big trouble getting creative, but she didn't want to hear it. One from Jewish column A, one from Irish Catholic column B. What a freaking mess."

"What do you mean, a mish-mash of a ceremony?" Amanda asked, her dark blue eyes revealing her distress, "I've never been to a Jewish wedding, let alone been a bridesmaid in one. What am I supposed to do? Something different than usual?"

"You're _supposed_ to bring your cute little ass to the wedding rehearsal, _that's_ what you're supposed to do, sweetie," Melinda cut her a dismissive look that had my toes quaking in their size 7 ½ specially-dyed ice blue 4 inch stiletto heels. _Yeesh! It wasn't even her wedding! Bridezilla, much!!_

"I couldn't make it Thursday night, I explained why," Amanda whined unhappily, "I had other plans. Important ones I couldn't get out of--my in-laws from hell had their anniversary dinner! Come on, be a friend! Just give me a clue, here!! What am I in for as a bridesmaid? What do I _do_?"

"If you're confused about anything, girl, just follow us," Tina interjected, a tendril of her coffee colored hair escaping the careful upsweep that Heather had crafted so carefully.

"Do whatever the hell _we_ do. And smile like you know what you're doing. Fake your way through it. That's what we're doing--_right_, Stevie? I know I'm taking my cue from Moira if I get confused."

I, on the other hand, had other more pressing problems. "I _hate_ these frickin' floral hair wreaths," I complained to the group in general, "Does anyone else feel like someone is tapping you on the shoulder every time you move your head?"

"Honey, I've whipped my head around so many times looking for people behind me that I feel like Linda Blair in The Exorcist," Ruby croaked.

The wildflower wreath, let alone the halter style of the bridesmaid dress, was not kind to Ruby. Nearer to 60 years of age than she cared to admit, Ruby was 5' with a smidge over 200 lbs packed onto her, most of them around her middle. She looked like she was ready to give birth at any moment….and when you looked at the massive wrinkles on her face the sight was truly _frightening_.

The rest of us were relatively lucky: the dress style hugged our curves expertly and revealed just the right amount of cleavage. Melinda as a redhead and Amanda as a blonde were especially gorgeous in that icy shade of blue. As for me--well, until now I'd been too scared to look in the mirror, so I really hadn't analyzed what the dress did or didn't do for my complexion. But I had to admit, thanks to Nikki and Heather, I was looking pretty damned fine!

At the moment, I didn't even feel tired: I'd been fortified by three strong coffees during the bridal party's breakfast earlier this morning, so I'd managed to show signs of life despite running on only 2 hours of sleep. And thankfully, after I hobbled to my chair I was able to remain seated during the breakfast, so my stiff "I just climbed off a horse" shuffle wasn't noticeable to anyone but Tina and myself. God forbid Stella'd caught sight of me, I would no doubt have had my head ripped off by Bridezilla!

"Truth to tell, Aunt Esther isn't the only one unhappy about the interdenominational ceremony Stella and Patrick have planned." Moira confided, "Uncle Seymour isn't that thrilled either, although he's keeping his mouth shut for Stella's sake. Neither my aunt nor my uncle are all that happy about Stella marrying an Irish Catholic in the first place, although they like Patrick well enough. There were more battles fought in our family over this wedding than I can count. The _only_ way Uncle Seymour and Aunt Esther gave their blessing and agreed to attend the ceremony at all was Stella's promise to raise the children in the Jewish faith. Now even _that_ isn't enough for Aunt Esther. The bitch."

"What about Patrick's family?" I questioned, "Don't they want the same assurance from him? That any kids be raised Catholic?"

"No, they're okay with it. Mainly because Patrick's mother is deceased," Moira replied, "And his father is a non-practicing Catholic, which is what Patrick himself is. So his family is fine with it, provided they have a priest present to say a blessing over the newly-weds. His maternal grandmother held firm on that, or else _she_ wasn't going to attend."

"Can a priest even _do_ that?" Tina interjected, "They tend to get bent out of shape when you aren't marrying in the Catholic church and having children raised as Catholics, from my experience."

"Damn straight they do," Moira grinned, "That's how we ended up with Father Barry. He went to college with Paul--the best man--and Patrick. He majored in theology, then decided to join the priesthood. He's agreed to say a blessing, but only as a special favor to the groom. He could get into lots of trouble with the Church, but he agreed to do it anyway. Except he won't be saying Mass, just reading a prayer or two over the happy couple. He can't perform the Sacrament of Marriage, he says."

"So, _wait_?? Is their marriage even legal then?" I wondered.

"Yep, it's legal, all right. The wedding service is being performed by the rabbi Stella found on the internet: Rabbi Broden makes a specialty of performing interfaith services. The wedding is a civil service performed privately 15 minutes prior to the ceremony that we all will be attending. Stella and Patrick will sign a marriage agreement, called the Ketubah, and then Rabbi Broden will legally marry them. Father Barry will bless them then, and that ceremony, attended only by the bride and groom and their best man and maid of honor, is technically the legal wedding."

"So what are _we_ attending then?" Amanda asked, confused. "We don't get to see a wedding ceremony?"

"We sure do," Moira assured her, "We get a mixture of traditional Jewish and Catholic ceremonies with the 'I Do's' and the Kiddush---"

"What's a Kiddush?" Amanda wanted to know.

"It's a blessing over the wine, representing Joy." Moira continued her explanation without taking a breath, "You'll also see that the ceremony will be taking place under the traditional Jewish Chuppah. Which is The Wedding Canopy which represents the new home that Stella and Patrick will be establishing now that they are wed. The canopy represents God's love and a covering over their family. The poles represent the support of their family and friends who are witnessing the ceremony. It's a gorgeously elaborate dupioni silk Chuppah trimmed with light blue and gold embroidered French jacquard ribbon and gold braid. Stella picked out the Family Tree design, which was commissioned to bring the presence of five generations of ancestors to witness the wedding ceremony. The tree is at the center, with the names of Stella and Patrick's parents on the trunk, their grandparents' names on the tree root, and those in turn are connected to the other generations before them, with the foliage of the tree containing leaves with each child's name, the name of the spouse and the date of the wedding sewn on. The Chuppah will become an heirloom, and hopefully in the future, Stella and Patrick's children will add their names in years to come."

"Wow, I had no idea the canopy meant something special," Tina murmured, for once silenced. "I thought it was just decorative."

Her head was turning from so many facts, as was mine.

"Oh, for sure means something very special," Moira revealed, "Behind the tree you'll see a figurative representation of the Western Wall in Jerusalem. The Sheva Brachot--the seven blessings recited under the Chuppah--are written within seven circles, representing the seven spheres of heaven which Stella and Patrick will enter upon their marriage. Heaven is also represented in the mystical sky and stars pictured on the Chuppah. At the bottom are flowers and birds, which represent the Garden of Eden. Each valance on the Chuppah contains a different verse quoted from Tanach--the Bible--which appeared on Stella's parents' Ketubah--marriage agreement--when they were married 36 years ago."

"And they can do all this with Patrick a Catholic?" I asked, "Are you sure he didn't have to convert?"

Moira laughed, "Trust me, my aunt and uncle tried their best to get the marriage postponed unless and until Patrick converted, but he flat-out refused to do it. He's still Catholic, non-practicing, but if he'd converted his grandmother would have flipped out into next year. And _yes_, to answer your question, you _can_ have all this and still have Patrick be Catholic. Thanks to Stella's internet rabbi, who makes it his business to do this kind of service for interdenominational couples. Trust me, she looked long and hard for this guy; he came in from Long Island, NY and he's being treated like visiting royalty. Without him, there can be no wedding."

"Do we get to break glasses?" Amanda asked, "I saw a Jewish ceremony in the movies--"

"It's a long-standing tradition for the groom to do that," Moira explained, "There are all sorts of metaphors that explain why the glass is broken by the groom after the marriage is performed. Some say it is to remind us of the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. Others say that it is to symbolize that, like the glass is forever changed when it is broken, the couple is forever changed by the marriage. Or you can go with the people who say that it is a reminder that life contains sadness and joy, and that in the midst of joy there is sadness. I prefer to think of it as a blessing that the couple be as fruitful as the shards of glass."

"Somehow I doubt Stella wants to be _that _fruitful," Tina murmured, sotto voice. Stella liked kids, but even I doubted that she wanted a dozen or so of them. Hopefully Patrick wouldn't put too much force into breaking that glass!

"Is that where we all yell Mazel Tov?" asked Amanda, "I think it is--after the glass is broken."

"Yes," Moira confirmed, "The guests yell 'Mazel Tov'--which means 'good luck' or 'congratulations'. But it's basically a prayer that the joyous energy the couple feels at that moment will surround them and sustain them throughout their lives."

"What we've ended up with now is a carefully crafted mix of Jewish and Irish Catholic traditions that is designed to make everyone just a _little_ bit happy," Melinda looked at Moira and both women rolled their eyes. "Truth to tell, Patrick's clan are far more interested in having their Irish heritage celebrated at the wedding and the reception than having a traditional Catholic ceremony. His father is real big on Irish traditions, and his only condition was that Patrick and the groom's party wear kilts."

"Holy crap! Wearing _kilts_ at a Jewish wedding?" Tina groaned, "Good God, it's a miracle we bridesmaids weren't wearing Kelly green gowns!"

"No, apparently wearing green is bad luck at an Irish wedding," Melinda piped up, "So Patrick told her. Otherwise that's exactly what we _would_ have been wearing. Instead we're wearing blue because that's one of the colors in the O'Reilly family kilt."

"I thought kilts were Scottish," interrupted Ruby. "Aren't they?"

"_Tartans_ are Scottish," Melinda replied, "From what Stella told me, and I can't swear to all of this, Patrick said the Irish usually wear solid color kilts. But a number of Irish families have designed tartans for their clans and registered them, using colors that appear in their family crests. And the O'Reilly clan's registered tartan has blue in it, and so--presto, we're wearing blue gowns. You can blame the Irish for the wildflower wreaths, too. Another tradition they are following. And Stella is having her hair braided, which is supposed to symbolize feminine power and good luck."

"Yeesh," I muttered.

"Tell her about the rest of it," Moira prodded.

"Okay, here's the deal," Melinda sighed, "Stella is carrying lavender in her bridal bouquet, along with the white roses. And she's got a tiny porcelain horseshoe stitched onto her garter belt for luck. They're giving each other Claddagh rings, and the guests will get bells to ring which is supposed to be even more good luck. And we drink mead--honeyed wine--at the reception while the best man gives an Irish toast."

"Dear Lord help us," Ruby groaned, "We have a Jewish bride decked out like an Irish maiden, and an Irish groom in a kilt signing a Ketubah and smashing a glass under a Chuppah! No wonder the Rabbi is ready to have a cow. Or is that kosher?"

"We're having corned beef and cabbage for the wedding dinner," Moira laughed, "Oh yes we _are_! I kid you not! And the list of songs for the band includes 'Danny Boy' and 'Hava Nagila'. It's a train wreck waiting to happen. Once the guests find out what this mix of customs looks like, _no one _will be happy, trust me!"

"They should have eloped," I decided.

"They came close," Moira winked. "But they were afraid both sides of the family would be ready to string them up. So instead we have the famous Chinese restaurant---"

"One from Column A, one from Column B," Melinda interjected.

"--wedding," Moira finished, "which will have _everyone_ getting drunk once they see what's on the agenda."

"And you were afraid _you'd_ be the talk of the wedding?" Tina teased me. "Hell, sweetie, you could pass out from exhaustion and land face forward in the cake and still no one would give you so much as a second glance."

"From your lips to God's ears," I prayed.

Then I decided that God had enough on His plate already without having to worry about answering _my_ prayers....


	30. Chapter 30

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 30

_Carlos' POV_

I was a man on a mission. A crusade, in fact: one designed to express my never-ending love and devotion to the woman of my dreams. I had won her heart in one unforgettable evening, but I wasn't going to forego my wooing of Stephanie while I was gone. She deserved it! I knew she loved me and trusted she would wait for me, but I also knew that she was going to have no support at all from her family as she battled her loneliness and fear and struggled to make her dreams come true. My Babe wasn't just any woman, she needed to _fly _as other lesser mortals needed air and water. To do that, she needed to know that I had faith in her and loved her more than life itself. And I had an idea how to express that love.

So began _Operation: Wooing Wonder Woman_!

I enlisted my incredulous cousin Mateo's help in the project, and had him delay driving me to my parents' house until we made 3 very special stops.

The first was Santos Jewelers, owned by the family of Lester Santos, one of my oldest and best Army buddies. I had a special list of gifts I wanted to order for my Babe, and I swore both Mateo and Lester's father to complete secrecy. The last thing I needed was for my parents to get wind of some of the items I was ordering today….

I'd discovered that Stephanie's birthday was October 12--next week in fact! She'd "tortured" my August 12 birthday out of me with 4 desserts while I was tied to her bed, and I'd sworn payback. Well, I'd finally gotten it with one of my fantasies in the early morning hours. I'd had Steph at my mercy begging for release while I played doctor, insisting that I needed all the "relevant personal details" of her case before I could provide treatment to abate her aches. I'd demanded her birth date--which she'd teasingly refused to give me earlier--and that gave me the date on which to unroll _Operation: Wooing Wonder Woman_ on an unsuspecting Stephanie.

I was now shopping for a birthday gift. A very _special_ birthday gift, in fact--one that would keep giving over the next 18 months 'just because'. And, of course I also needed a year and a half worth of presents for Christmas, Valentine's Day, the anniversary of our meeting, her next birthday…..enough gifts to last until my scheduled return in mid April of 2011. I had a lot of shopping to do, and more than enough love, ideas and money to do some serious damage to my credit cards.

Mateo had agreed to arrange for delivery of the jewelry with special notes I planned to write for each occasion. And the other part of the surprise would be waiting for me when I returned state-side to make Stephanie my bride. Damn! I couldn't wait! I was truly inspired, and both Mateo and the elderly jeweler were watching in disbelief as I launched into my list of special orders.

I started by selecting an 18 karat yellow gold oval link bracelet which would be perfect as a charm bracelet for Stephanie's delicate wrist.

I then got to work choosing 12 charms that would remind her of special moments of our all-too-brief-thus-far "courtship". Because I had specific charms in mind, I ended up sketching many of my ideas and discussing options with Lester's father as Mateo shook his head in disbelief. I know: this wasn't the cousin he knew and loved, not by a long shot!

As the jeweler wrote up the special order, my cousin finally gave voice to his curiosity.

"So--come on, spill it! Are you going to confess what your big fascination is with ruby slippers, Carlos?" Mateo grinned. "Why the need for that last special order? A gold slipper covered with rubies? Are you kidding me?"

I couldn't help the smug smile that twisted my lips as I recalled Steph and the Wizard of Ahhhs, which had been one of my favorite fantasies of all, even though it had been Stephanie's idea, not mine. "Steph likes The Wizard of Oz, is all. I tried to pick charms for her new bracelet that I think she'll enjoy." _Plus, I gave my Babe her very first Doomsday Orgasm with that red hot fantasy…_

"Somehow I think that big smile hides a deeper tale than just a favorite flick of hers."

"Not one you're ever going to hear, Mat. That's for damned sure."

"OK, so what about the damned _hamster_?" Mateo laughed, "I can't wait to meet this woman, you know that! She has my big bad cousin wrapped around her little finger, spending 20 minutes looking at something like a dozen pictures of ugly ass rodent charms and actually worrying about which one looks more like the mysterious Rex!"

"Hey, watch it: my woman _loves_ that hamster," I protested, shaking my head sadly, "I can't very well give her a charm bracelet for her birthday without a _hamster_ charm on it, can I? I can't give her one with a hamster that looks more like a little rat or a fucking mouse than a hamster, either. She wouldn't be happy, and the whole point of the bracelet and the charms are to make her _happy_…And, smart ass, it didn't take me 20 minutes to decide! I just picked the best looking hamster I saw and went with it. End of story."

"Right, right. Of course you didn't. You picked the best looking hamster you saw," Mateo snorted in derision, "Well, you sure _found _him, Carlos! That was a real fine looking charm--the hamster charm to beat all other hamster charms, for sure. He's the Brad Pitt of hamsters, in fact."

"Fuck off, asshole," I grinned to booming laughter. My cousin was really enjoying himself so far.

"So what about the _other_ choices you made? Superman, I get. Wonder Woman, okay, I get that too, I think. A heart with engraving on it. A key--she has the key to your heart, fine. But come on, Carlos: what's with the rest of the special orders? A martini glass with chocolate diamonds? A diamond tiara resting on a small lapis globe? A calendar for the month of October with five particular stones in it? What the hell is up with all that? And don't tell me it's none of my business: _I'm_ the one who agreed to deliver this bracelet for her birthday, and the charms at various times during your time away."

"My Babe and I haven't had much time together, Mat. Even with all of tomorrow, that's still not much time when it weighs against 18 months apart. I picked moments we've shared that I knew would make her smile. I want those charms---and my notes---delivered on specific dates because I want to keep reminding her that I love her and that I miss her. And I want her to know that, no matter what, I'm coming home to make her my wife just as soon as I can."

"Carlos, man, I don't know what to say about this," my cousin admitted. "I've known you my whole life, and I don't recognize this super-romantic guy you suddenly turned into. You have me totally floored here. She's got to be one hell of a woman, for sure."

"She is," I said softly, "And I'm going to let her know every way I can just how special she is and how much she means to me."

The jeweler returned with the receipt, which I handed to Mat for safekeeping. Then I began my _real_ special order shopping…..

"Blue diamonds?" Mat yelped, "Earrings? A ring? Do you know how much this is going to cost you?"

I smiled over at the jeweler, "I'm sure he's going to tell me any time now."

"Expensive. Very hard to find, Carlos." Mr. Santos shook his head slowly, "I'll need to order a lot of loose stones, make sure they are matched in color, and quality. This is no easy order. It will take time. Lots of time."

"You'll have more than enough time," I assured him. "I won't need the engagement ring until mid April of next year, and the eternity band will be her wedding ring."

"Jesus H. Christ," muttered Mateo, "And if something happens…."

"She gets them regardless. I want her to know that even if I didn't make it, I was planning a future with her."

"I didn't mean if you---"

"_Die. _You can say it," I sighed, "We're both thinking it. If I do, you'll have a special letter to deliver and all of the jewelry goes to her immediately. Or as soon as it's ready, whichever is first."

"And if she takes up with another man?" Mateo said, deliberately being brutal to--I assume--try to shake some sense into his love-struck cousin. "She gets the jewelry anyway?"

"Not that it will happen, because I know Stephanie," I said firmly, "But the answer is _yes_. She gets it anyway because she's the woman I've waited my whole life for. The woman who is my soul mate. The one--the _only _one--I want to spend the rest of my life with. And even if she should change her mind, I won't change mine. I love her and I want her to always know it. End of story. Promise me, Mat."

There was a long silence and my cousin exhaled loudly, "If that's what you want, you got it. I'll do whatever you ask. Just be sure."

"I _am_ sure," I turned to Mr. Santos and began to sketch out on paper the rings I'd pictured in my head. "Three emerald cut blue diamonds, set in platinum. Center stone at least 3 karats, 4 if you can get it----"

"Holy shit!" Mat sounded pained.

Mr. Santos looked like he'd won the lottery. With the business I was giving him today, he could probably take the rest of the year off…..

"One karat minimum on the side stones, 2 karats is better."

"And more expensive---"

"Mat, _please_. I wouldn't be wasting everyone's time if I didn't know I could afford it. You know it too."

"Son of a bitch, this is insane. You know that."

I ignored him and completed my requirements, "Wedding ring should be made of baguettes, matching the color of the engagement ring perfectly. Then I'll need a pair of earrings, again platinum set. A total of 4 karats of blue diamonds, 2 karats each ear, emerald cut."

The jeweler nodded, making some revisions to my sketch and talking price while Mateo blinked in incredulous disbelief at my calm demeanor. It actually _was_ kind of surreal, to tell the truth……..

"Anything else?" Mr. Santos asked, "I can give you a good price on a matching bracelet, provided the lot of stones will cover it. Maybe work up something with a mix of blue diamonds and a darker blue. Ceylon sapphires, like these."

I nodded, liking the combination. "Yeah, I want my Babe to have the matching set. It will be passed down to our daughter one day."

That got Mat's attention. "Is she pregnant?"

"No," I shook my head firmly, "No chance. We're being smart."

"_One _of you is, anyway," he muttered.

"Don't go there, Mat."

"I want to meet her."

"I know you do. You already said so."

"I'm telling you, Carlos. I want to meet her first. Or else---"

"_Or else_?" I glared at him with the look that made grown men piss in their pants.

To his credit, Mateo held his ground. "Or else you find someone else to deliver this jewelry. I'm not setting myself up for 18 months of delivering expensive jewelry bought by my absent cousin to a woman who has taken up with another man while he's gone. All the time knowing I'm not allowed to tell her I'm your cousin---"

I considered it from his viewpoint, and nodded, "As I said, you can meet her tomorrow night. I'll bring her to Rosa's for dinner and dancing. 8pm. You'll be there, we'll accidentally run into each other and you can chat her up as long as you like while we wait at the bar for our table. You're my best friend Mateo Herrera, not my cousin Mateo Herrera. Understood?"

"Understood. I get a bad feeling from her and I'm allowed to---"

"You're out if you say so," I agreed, "I'll get one of my Army buddies instead. That suit you?"

It didn't, but it was the only option on the table. Mat nodded slowly. "I want this to work out for you, Carlos. I do. Honestly. But---"

"I get what you're trying to do, Mat," I assured him softly, "And I'd do the same thing if our positions were reversed. But tell me the truth: how soon did you know that Lucia was your soul mate?"

"The night I met her," he sighed, eyes closed at the remembrance. "But I courted her for the next year anyway."

"Well, I'm courting my woman for a year and a half," I pointed out, "You worried I'm moving too quickly? Then just be glad we're not in Vegas right now tying the knot. I'd have done it in a heartbeat if it was fair to ask her, knowing I was leaving Monday."

"This is just not you, Carlos."

"I told you," I said firmly, "I changed sometime last night. She gave me hope. If I hadn't met her, I'd be saying good-bye and not expecting to come back. Stephanie gave me hope and love--and I'm grabbing both firmly and holding on for dear life."

I'd paid the deposit required for the special order of the blue diamonds, and handed the paperwork again to Mat. He'd have my power of attorney while I was gone, so he'd make final payments when the jewelry was ready. We walked out to his silver BMW.

"You know anything at all about her family?" he said as we climbed in and he pulled carefully out into traffic.

"Yeah, her mother is a real bitch who has a lot to answer for. Father seems decent enough, but doesn't open his mouth very much. Her grandmother, though, she's a real pip….." I explained Granny Mazur's legal sex offender status and Mateo damned near crashed the car laughing at the absurd tale. Then I hit him with the tidbit about her cousin Vinnie the pervert and his ill-fated sexual relationship with a duck….

"Are you fucking with my head, man?" Mateo was laughing so hard now he literally had tears running down his cheeks, "A _duck_? Her cousin has a thing for a _duck_?"

"'_And other assorted barnyard animals I don't want to get into at the moment'_," I said primly, mimicking Steph's voice. "I swear, Mat, it's a miracle she is as sane as she is, with this family of hers. The older daughter is apparently a Saint in the mother's eyes, can do no wrong. Steph, on the other hand, can do nothing right, and that bitch of a mother keeps harping on every so-called failure of hers incessantly." I told him a bit about Dickie Orr, and provided him with the names and telephone numbers of my four Army buddies, lest he need to communicate with them to protect Steph from the prick she'd been married to. I didn't think it likely Orr would bother her again once my buddies paid him a visit, but I thought it best to be prepared, in case.

"Did you tell her anything at all about our family?"

"I told her enough," I said quietly, "I didn't go into a lot of detail, certainly didn't mention what the family business is because I don't want her feeling obligated to check in with the family regularly while I'm away. But yeah--Steph knows things were strained between me and the family for a long time; I told her about my gang problem and getting tossed out of the house by Papa. Moving in with Tia Carmen and you guys. She knows Abuela called a halt to the feud when Abuelo died. And she knows that Alex followed Papa into the family business and I didn't--and why."

"I guess you two bonded a bit on that, huh? She'd have understood your feelings about your Papa and Alex, since she has a sister who is the be-all and end-all and nothing she herself can do makes the grade with her mother."

"Yeah," I brushed my hair out of my eye and cleared my throat, uncomfortable with the deep subject which, for all my words, still did hurt more than I cared to admit. I would forever be second to my brother in my Papa's eyes--no matter _what_ I did. "So, anyway, she and I discussed enough to know we fit in a lot of ways. Everything I know about Steph, everything I find out, it only makes me love her more. She's _the one_, Mat! If I could marry her today I would. But I can't. So I have to get my ass back in one piece and then I can spend some time loving her and building a life with her before I have to leave for my last mission."

"Your _last_ mission?" Mateo whipped his head around, in total shock, "You're getting out of the Army? Are you serious?"

"Yeah, I decided this morning that this is it for me," I confessed, "I haven't told her yet, you're the only one who knows. But assuming I get home from this clusterfuck in one piece, I've been promised I'll have 3 months before I do one last obligated 6 month mission. Then they'll ask me to re-up. And I'll decline."

"_Wow_," my cousin was blind-sided, "I know how much you love the Army. Delta Force is your life, Carlos. You're walking away from that for a woman you met last night for the first time? No reservations, no second thoughts? _None_?"

"Not a one," I said firmly, "I want a life with Stephanie, and I want a family with her. I'm going to marry my woman as soon as I can once I get back. And then I'm going to make damned sure I get out of Delta Force healthy and spend the rest of my life making babies with her and waking up with her in my arms every day and climbing into bed with her every night. Making sure she realizes she deserves to have all her dreams come true-- and kicking the ass of anyone who dares to make her feel inferior."

"I smell major mother-in-law problems upcoming," Mateo sighed.

"Count on it. If I could meet the bitch before I left, I'd do it in a heartbeat and she'd walk away a very unhappy woman."

"Just like Dickie Orr will be a very unhappy man."

"He's no _man_, Mat. You don't behave that way to a woman, _any_ woman, let alone your _wife_, and still call yourself a man. He tried to _rape_ her, for Christ's sake! Anally. Not once but _twice_, the son of a bitch! Then guilt-tripped her into coming back to his bed by using her priest against her. Her duties as a wife, be damned!" My voice had risen and I had to take a deep breath and calm myself as we pulled into the florist's parking lot, our second stop. "I'm not going to apologize for having my buddies teach him a lesson, Mat. He has it coming, _all_ of it--and he's just damned good and lucky I won't be here to do it myself."

"In this particular case, I agree, he needs to learn a lesson and to stay the hell out of her life. Just make sure that nothing connects _you_ to this, okay? I don't want to have to bail you out of jail in 18 months from now on some conspiracy charge or another."

"You won't," I promised him grimly. "Orr's not going to be talking to anyone about his little…._accident_. Guaranteed."

"I guess I should say 'good'. But just keep that temper of yours under control, Carlos. Remember Papa and Alex are going to have some things to say about Stephanie, and if you want to keep peace in the family while you are away---"

"I'll have to keep my mouth shut and remember they don't know her. I get it," I repeated, "I can do this, Mat. I can remember Worst Case scenario and do everything I need to do in order to avoid it."

"I sure as hell hope so," my cousin's voice sounded unsure, "because if you want to keep your Mama and Abuela and the other women out of Stephanie's business----"

"_Got it_, Mat." And I did. I needed to hold my temper under control, and I would. That was what I had been trained to do by the Army; it was what kept me alive. I could control my emotions when I needed to--now more than ever. I kept reminding myself of what was at stake and I knew I would not screw it up: my Babe was too important. "Now let's go look at some flowers, I feel like doing some major floral damage on that credit card of mine."

Some $2,100 or so later I had arranged for fresh flowers of many varieties to be delivered every other week to Stephanie for the entire period I was gone, and for special deliveries on her birthday (this year and next), Thanksgiving Day, Christmas, New Year's Eve, Valentine's Day and the anniversary of our meeting. Mateo had looked at me incredulously as I kept looking at arrangements in the delighted florist's catalogue and making more expensive additions to personalize the arrangements. What can I say? _I'm a man in love! _I want my woman happy and I'll do whatever I can to make her that way…..

One more stop.

"This is _insane_, Carlos," Mateo muttered, "A fucking fortune in jewelry of one sort or another? $2,100 in flowers? _Now_ where the hell are we headed?"

"Dipaolo Bros. Bakery," I smiled. "My Babe loves a good dessert…….."

"Good God!"

We took a left turn and I grinned at the look of amazement on my cousin's very expressive face. I knew Dipaolo Bros. had a reputation as the best bakery in town; _Rosa's_--our family restaurant--had, after all, for years gotten all of their desserts from Dipaolo Bros. Bakery. So where else to go to keep my Babe happy? I had decided to gift Steph with 18 months' worth of dessert, to allow her to defy her mother's edicts on how to live her life and still keep her notorious sweet-tooth satisfied. The desserts would come every other week--one week she'd get flowers, the next week dessert, then flowers, then dessert, and so on for the entire time I was away. Her first dessert would be pineapple upside down cake, the second tiramisu, the third chocolate mousse cake…oh, yes, I had plans to give Steph all the back up she needed as she fought to fly while her mother did her damnedest to clip her wings.

My phone rang as we turned onto Broad Street. I checked the caller ID and groaned: it was Celia. _Naturally._

"Where are you, Carlos?" she demanded, "You're late."

"Hola to you too, mi hermana*," I said placidly, "We're on our way." _(*Hello to you too, my sister.)_

"Where _are _you?"

"In the car with Mat."

"_So??? _How soon will you be _here_?"

"Depends on traffic," I shrugged, carelessly knowing it was driving my nosy sister crazy not to have more information on my whereabouts to report to the family, "Expect us when you see us. Adios!" I ended the call to Mateo's muffled laughter.

"I expected her to call earlier, you know," he confessed, "You lucked out."

"No, _she _did," I smiled, "I have important business to conduct. I'm spending the afternoon with mi familia, I can certainly afford to spend some time arranging things for my Babe before I get there. In fact---" I debated for all of 20 seconds, then gave into temptation and called Stephanie. She answered almost instantly.

"Superman! I was just thinking about you!"

"You were? What exactly were you thinking, Babe?"

"I was thinking how much I love you, Carlos!"

"I love you too, Babe," I replied, a goofy grin forming on my face. _I couldn't help it, honestly! _"How are things going? Staying awake so far?"

"I'm mainlining coffee," she laughed, "And I'm doing great: the makeup artist did a fabulous job--you'd never know this over-sexed Cuban practically marked me as his, head to toe…."

"You can't tell, huh? Well, then, I'll have to fix that tonight. I want everyone to know you're taken and you're all _mine_."

"Caveman."

"Complaining, Querida?"

"Hell, no, I remember the Big Club Clan…."

So did I, and my smile grew broader. "Did you have a good breakfast?"

"Yeah, but there's a crisis: the bride's mother is threatening to walk out on the ceremony because her Rabbi told her that Stella was a disgrace to all Jews for having the wedding on the Sabbath. He all but kicked her mother out of their synagogue unless she puts her foot down and walks."

"Shit. Sorry about that, Babe."

"Stella's upstairs now trying to get things settled down with her mom, but her cousin Moira says she pretty much knows her witch of a mother is serious and she won't be there for the vows. We're here in Stella's suite now, all ready to go downstairs for the ceremony--but as of now there's no bride in sight so we're all a bit nervous. I just was going to call you, I'm looking at your picture and missing you and counting the minutes till I see you again."

"Me too, Babe," I confessed, "I'm going to try to get back in time to sneak a dance in with you at the reception, so be looking for me."

"I'd like that," she whispered, "I miss being in your arms, Superman."

"Won't be long before you're back there where you belong," I promised her, "I'll call you when I can, Steph."

"Love you. How did things go at your breakfast meeting?"

"It went well. I'm in the car now on my way to a going away party." I neglected to mention the party was being thrown by my family, and Mateo muttered under his breath again. I'm sure he was still reeling from my cavalier treatment of my credit card. Honestly, if anyone had told me I'd be happily spending over $2,000 on flowers and a small fortune in jewelry for a woman in one afternoon---whether or not the deliveries were to be spaced out over 18 months or not--I'd have said they were deranged. But I'd done it, and I'd gladly do it again. My only regret was that I would miss her beautiful face as she got each surprise….

"Have fun, Carlos."

"You too, Babe. Love you right back."

I ended the call, then switched back to enjoy another few minutes of that smoking hot picture of Steph in those over-the-knee boots. God, she was a knockout! And just as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. I suddenly remembered a quote from Thomas Wolfe that I'd always liked: "Love is the ultimate expression of the will to live." And it was true. Loving Stephanie had given me back my will to live and had girded me for battle more than any body armor ever could. _No matter what_, I promised myself. _No matter what, I'm coming home to my woman and our life together…_

After my arrangements this afternoon, I felt even more positive that we would one day have it all.


	31. Chapter 31

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_A/N: The wedding described in this chapter is a self-created mix of Jewish and Irish customs, as researched by me on the net. This is a fan fic, not a manual for interfaith or intercultural weddings, so please take it as it is intended. I'm not Jewish, I'm Catholic; this represents my best efforts to present the customs of the ceremony for those who are unfamiliar with them, as I am, and do it in an entertaining way. Please forgive any errors; now on to the ceremony…_

Chapter 31

Disaster seemed to have been averted with the shockingly unexpected news that Mrs. Markowitz had finally been prevailed upon to risk her rabbi's wrath and attend her daughter's wedding ceremony, after all. Who knew that, according to Stella's recounting of the final showdown, her father was far more skilled in guilt-tripping her mother than anyone could have anticipated? Her face glowing, the bride quoted her previously-silent father as demanding of his recalcitrant wife "What will our family and friends think if you abandon your only daughter at the very time when she needs you the most? You will bring disgrace on our family name if you allow our baby girl to stand motherless under the Chuppah--and I for one will _never_ forgive you for that!" Mrs. Markowitz had paled, and decided it was better to side with her determined husband than her absent rabbi. Thus, as I said, a wedding disaster was seemingly averted. But as we know, appearances can sometimes be quite deceptive…

We were presently gathered in a beautiful and tastefully decorated salon of the hotel, before no less than 250 of the bride and groom's closest relatives and friends. The dupioni silk Chuppah looming before us, personalized with the names of their family ancestors, was every bit as impressive as Moira had described it to us earlier in the day.

Moira, in her role as Stella's maid of honor, led the procession of Stella's six bridesmaids, each of us carrying a lit candle which flickered as we carefully made our way towards the Chuppah. Our gowns were identical in style: floor length silk chiffon halter neck gowns with a daring side split. But while the bridesmaids' gowns were an icy blue, Moira's was a darker blue that matched the colors of the O'Reilly clan.

We reached our appointed places to the one side of the Chuppah, the kilt-clad groomsmen similarly grouped on the opposite side. We all turned to watch Stella make her way to meet her beloved. Radiant in a simple but elegant ivory silk sheath gown, her long blonde hair braided as Irish custom dictated, the bride glided down the aisle carrying a bouquet of wildflowers (matching our floral headpieces) with sprigs of lavender peeking out for good luck. A simple veil hid her face as her proud father and stonily silent mother led her to her waiting husband-to-be, who stood with his father, his only-living parent.

Both O'Reilly men were dressed in kilts, proudly wearing the beautiful mix of blues that marked their family tartan.

According to Jewish tradition, all men--including the non-Jewish kilt-clad men--wore kippots (skullcaps) to demonstrate their respect for tradition and their humility in the presence of the Divine Being.

A violin continued to play a soft traditional Irish melody as Stella and her parents took their assigned places under the Chuppah, where Rabbi Broden and Father Barry stood smiling to welcome them. The bride, according to Jewish custom, circled her groom seven times, both to show that her thoughts center around him and to protect him from any evil spirits that might try to find him. The music seamlessly turned from an Irish melody to a more traditional Jewish one, and I was more than impressed how much time both Stella and Patrick had taken to blend the two traditions and cultures.

The ceremony continued with betrothal and marriage benedictions over wine, and then a ceremonial simple gold ring was placed by the groom on the bride's forefinger. At this time the Ketubah (marriage contract) signed just before the ceremony by both the groom and the bride, was read out loud by Rabbi Broden before he presented the paper to Patrick, who then solemnly handed it to Stella. The contract was written in calligraphy on an elaborately designed parchment in predominantly blue and green ink. The design of the Ketubah featured twostrong and individually beautiful trees intertwined to create a new singular entity; it served as a metaphor for the two beloveds who have committed to intertwine their two lives together as one.

"_On the 5th__ of October, 2008, the groom Patrick O'Reilly, son of Shamus and the late Megan O'Reilly, and the bride Stella Markowitz, daughter of Seymour and Esther Markowitz, join each other before family and friends to enter into the holy covenant of marriage, and joyfully affirm: Recognizing the divine spark in one another, we commit on this day, to a life devoted to love and mutual respect of each other. May we be blessed as we journey together through life as equal partners, pledging to appreciate and support each other, to celebrate together in joy and to comfort one another in sorrow. Let us experience continued delight in our love for each other, remembering the importance of open and honest communication, patience and nurturing. May we encourage each other to bring sensitivity and thoughtfulness to all of our pursuits and commitments. Together we will build a loving home based on trust and enriched with the sounds of joy and laughter. Let us find strength and support from our family and friends. Our commitment to each other seals this document." _

My eyes watered as I listened to the loving words, and I hoped fervently that Nikki had been right about the mascara she'd applied being waterproof: I'm not a pretty crier, not by a long shot! As my heart was touched by the words Stella and Patrick had committed to paper, and the promises they were solemnly making to one another, I felt myself crying copious tears as my thoughts turned to Carlos and the marriage to him that I felt already in my heart. My love for him was so strong, my need for him in my life so overwhelmingly powerful, that I could not imagine a life without him by my side. I had faith that he would come back to me, but the reality of war and the length of time we would be apart had never felt more real.

I sniffled noisily on, oblivious to the looks of surprise (and growing horror) from those around me. It was only the fact that my hand had started shaking badly, and the flame of the candle came perilously close to the blue and lavender colored ribbons that dangled so annoyingly from our floral headpieces, that caught my attention finally and distracted me long enough to silence my crying. Now I had _another_ problem: my nose was watering badly and I had no tissues. Damn! I sniffled in reverse and damn near choked myself, letting loose with a non-stop barrage of coughing that again had me on the center stage for my lack of control. As all eyes again turned to me, I felt my face redden in embarrassment. _Eeek! _It wasn't my fault!

"Sorry," I whispered, my apology hanging unanswered in the air. Stella finally took pity on me, passing over her lace hanky, which by Irish tradition was carried by the bride and intended to be used (after taking several well-placed stitches) for the christening of the married couple's first baby. Well, the baby would have to make do with another christening bonnet: _I_ needed the hanky a far sight more than he or she did at the moment!

I blew out my candle, lest I set the hanky or myself on fire as I did the necessary repairs to my eyes and then my nose, and I watched that bitch Mrs. Markowitz give a world class eye roll that would have made any Burg girl proud. _Stephanie Plum strikes again… _Tina used her candle to relight mine when I was settled, and gave me an understanding smile. She knew exactly why I was such a mess; she was the only one who did. I sent her a heart-felt smile and she gave me a quick wink that warmed my heart. Once again, Tina had my back.

The ceremony continued and Father Barry stepped forward then to bless the couple and recite an old Irish wedding vow: "By the power that Christ brought from Heaven, mayst thou love me. As the sun follows its course, mayst thou follow me. As light to the eye, as bread to the hungry, as joy to the heart, mayst thy presence be with me, oh one that I love, 'till death comes to part us asunder."

Patrick lifted the veil from Stella's face gently. The couple exchanged Claddagh rings then, and recited personalized loving words reminiscent of the vows they'd taken in writing with the signing of the marriage contract.

Patrick slid the ring on his bride's finger, saying, "Stella, I love you completely today, as I did yesterday and will tomorrow and all the days of our lives. I will be there for you in joy and sorrow equally, and I promise to be your confidant, your counsel, your friend, your lover, and to be faithful to you as long as we both shall live. I take you Stella as my wife before God and these witnesses."

Stella slid the ring on her new husband's finger, replying, "Patrick, you are my life, you are my dreams, you are my joy, you are my love, you are my everything. As we grow old together and our love matures, may we hold on always to the passion and the affection for each other that we feel today. I love you and I will be faithful to you for as long as we both shall live. I take you Patrick as my husband before God and these witnesses."

Father Barry stepped back and Rabbi Broden again moved into the forefront. He recited the traditional Seven Blessings and the couple again drank from the cup of wine. Then, as the ceremony ended, Rabbi Broden wrapped the glass and placed it at Patrick's feet. The groom smashed the vessel with his right foot, and there were cries of Mazel Tov or congratulations as the music grew louder, turning from a traditional Jewish melody back to an Irish wedding melody. Patrick and Stella shared a long, tender kiss to celebrate their new-found status as husband and wife.

The guests rang the tiny silver bells they'd been given, according to Irish custom, and the newly-weds made their way down the aisle as the music swelled. I looked over to see Mrs. Markowitz wipe a stray tear out of her eye, and said a quick prayer that all would be well in future. I had been overjoyed to see she'd been prevailed upon to attend the ceremony, and it hadn't been lost on me that the only threat that had worked with her had been one that would have with my mother, as well: what would others think? Not for the first time, I resolved to be different. I spent far too much time worrying what my mother and the Burg thought of my behavior; I didn't like that about myself and I was determined to change things as I went forward with my life.

I remembered the vow Carlos had asked me to make to him when he had committed himself to a future with me: "_You can do anything you want with your life, Stephanie. Anything. No boundaries, Babe. No limits. You have the power inside you: you've always had it. You always will. Never settle for anything less than your dreams. Yours, Babe. Not your mother's. Not your sister's. Not the Burg's. Be who you are, as strong and as brave and as smart and sexy and magnificent as you truly are. No compromises. No surrender. That's all I want you to promise me, Steph. Fight as hard for yourself as you're willing to fight for me. Dream big. Take the world by storm. Be Wonder Woman. Promise to do that, and I'll promise to come back to you, however long it takes. Do you promise me all that, Babe?"_

I had promised him, and I would be true to my word. It would not be easy, but by the time Carlos returned to me in 18 months I would be my own woman, and Heaven help my mother or the Burg if they tried to stand in my way! I had never been happier with who I was than when I was with Carlos, and with his love I knew I would become all that I was meant to be. Wonder Woman. I would fly…and I would do it under my own terms.

A nudge startled me out of my reverie. I looked up to find Tina examining me carefully.

"Hey, girl! You still with us?"

I looked around, not seeing either Stella or Patrick. I blinked. "Where did they go?"

"Private room in back. Moira says it's traditional for them to be in seclusion for a bit to symbolize the consummation of the marriage. Then we move to the reception. You okay?"

"Do I look horrible? Like a crazed raccoon?"

"Nah, you look fine. A bit red in the eyes, but then with all that sobbing--"

"Omigod! I can't believe I did that! I was mortified!"

"Honey, you're going through a lot, it's to be expected. Heard from your man lately?"

"He called just before we came down here, he was in the car on his way to a going away party with his buddies."

"So call him now and tell him you're thinking of him. Go ahead: you know you want to."

God help me, I did. I ran over to Gladys--she of the ill-planned bachelorette party--and retrieved my purse so I could grab my cell phone and call Carlos. I dialed his number and almost immediately his voice soothed my heart.

"Hey, Babe, how's it going?"

"Is this a bad time?"

"Nah, I'm glad you called. I was thinking of you and wanting to call, but I didn't want to disrupt the ceremony."

"Too late: I already did that single-handedly myself, I'm afraid."

"_Babe_?"

"It just ended a few minutes ago. I started bawling in the middle of things, and everyone looked at me like I was a raving loon. I couldn't stop crying. I was a regular Niagara Falls for a bit there. I got so many dirty looks!"

"Ah, my poor Babe! I wish I could be there to give you a hug and a few dozen kisses---"

"That would be just what the doctor ordered, Superman!"

"The doctor has a few more treatment options to stop those tears of yours, Babe…"

"I remember exactly why I love that doctor so much, Carlos."

"I love you, Steph. I can't wait to get back there and show you how much. Are we on for that dance?"

"At least one, for sure. Hopefully more than one! And I love you too, Carlos. You having a good time at your party?"

"I've had better, to tell you the truth. But so far, it's going pretty much as I expected it would."

"That sounds kind of ominous…"

"Nah, nah…it's not meant to be, Babe. I just wish you and I had longer to be together, is all. I'm wondering what you want to do tomorrow? We are still on, aren't we?"

"Absolutely. I told the girls I was backing out of our plans to go into the City, and now they're all jealous of me. Whatever you want to do is fine with me, Carlos. We could just stay in the hotel…"

"As tempting as that is, I think I owe you some excitement. Definitely a romantic dinner and dancing…not to mention a new Victoria's Secret wardrobe."

I felt my face flush, remembering how easily he'd run through my dainty lingerie in one evening…….

"Blushing, Babe?" I heard the smile in his voice.

"Would you believe me if I said no?"

"Not for a minute. I love making you flush, you're such a tempting little innocent sometimes."

"I'm far from innocent in what I'm thinking around you, Superman. I love you so much, if you were here right now you'd be in serious danger of some serious ruination…"

"Already been ruined, Babe. No other woman interests me; none ever will again but you. But you can always keep up that potent magic of yours, I'm more than willing to fall under your spell anytime."

"Mrs. Markowitz showed up, do you believe it? After all that drama! Her husband put his foot down and all worked out. Except…"

"Good, but what's the _except_ about?"

"I almost set things on fire. They had the bridesmaids carrying candles instead of bouquets."

"Holy shit. A fire?"

"Averted, thankfully. But it was a close call, I'm afraid. I'm kind of a klutz, I should warn you in advance."

"Duly noted, Babe. I'll keep you away from candles, I promise."

Just then, Stella and Patrick made their triumphant entrance, and the crowd roared its approval as they swept into the salon again. "The newly-weds are back. I guess the reception is going to start now."

"Have fun, Babe. See you soon. Love you."

"Love you, too, Superman. You have fun too, Carlos. Bye."

He ended the call and I sighed happily, treating myself again to another long look at my man. It scared me how important he'd become to my happiness in less than 24 hours.

"Let's go, Stevie, they want us up front." Tina came to herd me along, and we made our way to the other side of the salon where the bridesmaids and groomsmen were lining up and getting ready to be introduced to the guests, with the bride and groom taking their appointed places at the end of the procession. "All's well with the Cuban Sex God, I presume?"

"Yeah, he's missing me, though, he said."

"What a surprise," Tina grinned.

"I just like hearing him say it," I admitted, a goofy smile forming on my face.

We giggled as we were paired up with the kilted groomsmen and we readied for our walk down the stairway of the salon. The videographer moved around, recording the moments for posterity, and I took a deep breath and waited until my name was called.

That moment came very soon, and I stepped out, my arm in that of one of the groom's good-looking cousins, Sean. I stepped down the staircase and a flash momentarily blinded me. Then, having taken a minute to recover, I was just about to take another step when I saw it. Disaster. Utter and complete disaster……

Fred Higgenbottom. In the flesh. Sitting front and center with the Mrs. on the groom's side of the room.

I never saw the next step coming. Hell, I never saw _anything_ coming. I got light-headed, and the next thing I knew I was flying through the air.

Crap. So much for Carla Clark from Cleveland and the National Bowlers' Association! I was trapped…and for the second time during the wedding, all eyes were on me.

Especially good old Fred's.

So much for averting disaster!


	32. Chapter 32

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_A/N: Carlos states in this chapter that in his parents' home, because Abuela Rosa does not speak English, the 'rule' is that everyone speaks Spanish. I'm not going to try to translate the entire chapter's conversations, just a few lines, to get the spirit of the story. It would bog things down if I tried to translate everything, and frankly there is too much danger of bad translations. Just please imagine for yourself that the dialogue is in Spanish._

Chapter 32

_Carlos' POV_

_You Can't Go Home Again_, warns the well-known Thomas Wolfe novel. Well, I was about to test the validity of that statement. As Mateo and I climbed out of his silver BMW and headed towards the door of the modest two level brick home, where my parents had lived for almost 38 years and in which I had grown up, I could see an dizzying variety of heads appearing in turn at the living room windows. My many nieces and nephews had clearly sounded the alert, and before we could reach the front door, it was flung open wide and I was enfolded in my Mama's welcoming arms. I hadn't seen her in over 18 months--since before my last deployment--and I held on for dear life, giving her a warm hug and reveling in the loving greeting she gave me.

"Welcome home, mi hijo, I've missed you so much!"

"Mama, I've missed you, too. You look well."

And she did. She was a beautiful woman still at age 55, with warm chocolate-colored eyes and rich mocha-latte skin. Her straight brown hair was pulled off her face, and her smile was ear to ear.

"You are too thin, Carlos, you need to eat! I've cooked all your favorite dishes! Come into the kitchen right now and have a snack before we sit down to eat later this afternoon."

I grinned, and happily allowed myself to be dragged inside to be passed around to the welcoming arms of my sisters, Celia (the nosy one), the twins Pilar (the bossy one) and Maria (the bubbly one), and Lena (the baby of the family). Mateo beamed good-naturedly as he was summarily elbowed aside and my tiny Abuela Rosa made a bee-line into my arms.

"Carlito! El mi de nieto querido, que hermoso usted es." _(My darling grandson, how handsome you are.)_

She was only 5 foot, but she was a formidable force of Nature, the acknowledged matriarch of the entire Manoso family. She had been a silent and obedient wife while my deceased Abuelo Alejandro ruled the family with an iron fist, but now Abuela Rosa had come into her own: she was the only one who was able to over-rule my father on anything, and she wasn't shy about using that power when she felt it necessary to do so.

My Mama, although she had refused to cut me off completely during my exile from the family, had succumbed to my Papa's pressure to throw me out of the house when I had been hauled down to Juvie hall because of the gang knifing. But she had immediately called her sister Carmen and made arrangements for me to move in with her family. And then she'd spent many long hours visiting and making sure that I was adjusting to the new arrangements, pressing me to quit the gang life and go to college. It was because of her faith in me, and my Abuela's, that I had finally realized that I needed to get my life together and make something of myself. I knew my Mama loved me, but she took her loyalty to my father first; she would never openly defy him, not even for her children. I understood that, and never tried to put her in an awkward position, not only for her sake but also for mine. I didn't doubt in the least that, push come to shove, I would lose.

But in my Abuela Rosa's biased eyes, I was the smartest, the best-looking, the strongest, the most loved of all of her grandchildren, bar none. It delighted me more than I could possibly say, and after coming in second to Alex for my entire life, I blossomed as her favorite. It was unconditional love such as I have never known. Frankly, I think it was because she admired my determination to live my own life and make my own choices, and I wondered how many of her choices had been over-ruled by my Abuelo during their many years together. I just knew that the moment my Abuelo had died, my Abuela had stepped forward and demanded that her only son Ricardo summon me home and accept me back into the family with no pre-conditions. I often wondered if he had welcomed the excuse, or if he had given in only at his Mama's pleading. I suppose I will never know the answer to that question.…

My Abuela had never bothered to learn English--she continued to speak Spanish exclusively--and it was a rule of the house that we all spoke Spanish when my Abuela Rosa was present. It served to reinforce our Cuban heritage for the younger generations, and it was a well-accepted dictum by all. Not that we'd have had a chance in hell of arguing the case, had we wanted to. No, my Abuela ruled with a velvet glove…but she ruled, nonetheless.

I was swept up in the crowd, my Tia Carmen welcoming me and ushering me towards the kitchen as the procession of aunts, uncles, cousins and nieces and nephews followed me chattering excitedly as we caught up with all the news of the family during my time away. 21-year old Lena, just married last year (I'd sadly missed the ceremony, though I'd met her betrothed Marco earlier) was now pregnant, and just beginning to show. Celia was firing questions at me faster than the speed of light, as usual, and as I always did, I ignored her except when I wanted to share information. Celia drove me crazy, and she in fact was the one I was most worried about finding out about my relationship with Stephanie. Between Celia and her non-stop questions, one more personal than the next, and Pilar, with her constant orders, I was sure that Steph would run for her life by the time I got back from the Mid East. Add to that my Mama, Abuela Rosa, and the rest of the gang…it wasn't pretty, not by a long shot. No, I was making the right decision to keep my woman and her importance to my life a secret until I could be here to play buffer between her and my family.

"Where's Papa? And Alex?" I asked, already knowing the answer already.

My Mama's smile dimmed, "At work, of course. They are doing the lunch service at _Rosa's_. They will be home soon, mi hijo. I'm sorry they are not here to greet you upon your arrival, but---"

"Nothing new, Mama," I sighed, "It's important that they run the restaurant."

"Rico should have closed it, it is disrespectful for him to keep it open, today of all days," my Abuela muttered under her breath, "Today his son returns home, a hero, after many long months away risking his life for his country. To serve strangers lunch he misses this? It is wrong, and this I have told him. But he did not listen to me this time."

"It doesn't really matter, Abuela Rosa," I assured her, giving her a smile and leaning in to kiss her cheek again. Trust her to look out for my interests and anticipate my hurt feelings! It pained me to think that my Papa had chosen work over me again, but as I'd expected nothing more, I tried to push it out of my mind. "I assume he will go back to open _Rosa's_ for dinner, as well?"

"Idiot." Abuela Rosa muttered, "He wastes so much time because of that restaurant. So much time, so much valuable time on work. He does not learn from his Papa's example. Life is short; family lasts forever."

There was an uncomfortable silence, then everyone desperately jumped in to try to change the subject. I was firmly pushed down into a chair at the kitchen table, and my Mama set to preparing a plate for me. The surrounding smells were heavenly, making my mouth water: Moros y Cristianos (black beans and rice), fried plantain chips, Arroz con Pollo (yellow rice with chicken), Costillitas (baby back ribs), Spicy Cuban Mojo Chicken with warm Mango-Avocado Salsa, Papas Rellenas (stuffed potatoes), and my own personal favorite dish, Empanadas (ground beef turnovers with cheddar cheese, corn and tomato sauce).

I was hungry, and my Mama and Abuela Rosa beamed with satisfaction as I laid waste to a plate of the most delicious food I'd tasted in years. No one, even my Papa or Alex, made better Empanadas than my Mama! Mateo handed me a bottle of my favorite Bucanero Max Cuban beer, and I made short work of it, as well.

"The Army doesn't feed you as well as your Mama does, do they, mi hijo?" teased my Mama.

"No one feeds me as well as you do, Mama," I winked, winning another loving hug, and a pinch on my cheek. Only Mama and Abuela Rosa could get away with that! "You and Abuela Rosa make magic in the kitchen, and you know it. I've missed your delicious food, now I have to make up for it, don't I?"

"Yes, you do, and don't stop there--there is plenty more! I made your favorite flan for dessert, and I want to see you finish it up."

"I will, I haven't had flan since the last time I was home," I said softly, taking in the scene around me and feeling loved and appreciated.

"You are happy, mi hijo, I see it in your eyes," my Mama said quietly, "I have not seen that peace in your face before. You have met someone, yes?"

I almost choked on my food. How the hell had she guessed my secret? _Deny, deny, deny! _"When would I have had the time to meet a woman, Mama? I have just returned from battle after 18 months."

"He is a good soldier, he loves his job and his country, Teresa," my Abuela smiled, sending me a quick (and hidden) wink. "Carlos is happy because he is home with his family who loves him."

"True, Abuela," I agreed heartily, "That is what brings me that peace and happiness you see, Mama."

"Well, you need to meet someone," Mama insisted, "A nice young Cuban woman with a good family who will bear you many children."

The beer went down the wrong pipe, and again I choked. This was not going well, suddenly, and I looked to Mateo for help. He did not disappoint.

"Tia Teresa, Carlos can't settle down while he is in service, he must put his country first---"

"Nonsense," my Mama interrupted, "I know a lovely girl who would be perfect for you, mi hijo! You know her family: the Melendez'. Their beautiful daughter Lourdes has returned to Newark, she has taken a position teaching first grade at Our Lady of Peace elementary school."

"That's nice, Mama," I said slowly, trying to wend my way through the rapids, looking for calm seas, "But I'm really not looking to---"

"You will meet her later this afternoon," she beamed happily, giving my cheek another affectionate pinch.

"_Excuse me_?" My voice rose two octaves in sheer horror.

"I've invited Juan and Inez to bring Lourdes by for coffee and dessert."

Shit.

I pasted a polite smile on my face and wondered how quickly I could make my escape. But the nightmare was just getting started, unfortunately.

"I have invited Isabella Tonio and her parents Luis and Lupe to join us later this afternoon," my Abuela Rosa said, giving my Mama a challenging look. "Isabella is a bank manager at Chase; she is much better suited to be Carlos' wife than young Lourdes Melendez."

_Double_ shit. Not one but _two _women I had to avoid?

But no, I had counted Celia, my older sister by 10 years, out. That was a costly mistake.

"But I've invited my friend Eva Garcia to stop over. She works over at Town Hall, her uncle Estevan is a Judge in Superior Court. She would be the perfect choice as Carlos' novia---"

Novia? _Bride? _They were planning on marrying me off? What the fuck was this gathering intended to accomplish today, anyway? Clearly I was going to have to open my mouth and tell them about the coming mission, after all….

"_Nonsense_!" My Abuela's voice was imperious, "Estevan is too opinionated, too dominating. His daughter is a milk-sop, not the spit-fire my Carlito needs! A man needs fire between the sheets! Eva is a nice girl, but she is not a woman who will set a man's blood on fire!"

"Mama!" My Mama's voice howled, her face red. "This is not appropriate conversation in this company!"

My nieces and nephews were grinning like fools, and a sudden glare from my Abuela silenced the giggles and brought a halt to the snickering.

"You'll see I'm right: Carlito will fall head-over-heels over Isabella, we'll have the betrothal here at Christmas, and----"

"Unfortunately, we can't," I interrupted apologetically. "I ship out again Monday morning for a new mission. I'll be gone for 18 months. I have no time to meet any women and no plans to become betrothed to anyone." _Certainly not anyone other than my Babe_, I silently amended.

"Another mission?" My Mama's voice was incredulous.

"You just returned! You always get a few months in the country before you have to go back," Abuela Rosa agreed. "What is this mission?"

"You know I can't discuss that," I reminded her quietly. "It is important, that is all I can say."

"Is it dangerous?" My Mama asked.

"It is always dangerous," Abuela Rosa pointed out unhappily, "Carlos is a brave man, this is his job and he is good at it. He will succeed and come home to us as soon as he can. Won't you, Carlito? You will be well and safe, yes?"

"Of course, Abuela," I promised, standing to give both my women hugs of condolences. I saw the looks on their face and knew they both had reservations on my safety, but despite that, they were going to pretend that all was well.

"Were you going to tell us any of this?" Celia's voice interrupted our hug. "Or were you going to slip out of the country without letting anyone know?"

"I was going to do my duty as a soldier," I said firmly, my eyes giving her the answer she'd feared. "I didn't want anyone to worry unnecessarily---"

"So you _were_!" Pilar was horrified, "Carlos, how _could_ you?"

"Let him alone," Lena defended me, "He is here now, let us enjoy the afternoon."

"Yes," Maria backed her up, "We don't need to argue this now. It is what it is. Carlos, you can stay tonight and spend tomorrow with the family, can't you?"

_Oh shit. Here it comes._

"Actually---" I started.

"No argument," my Mama interjected, "You will spend tomorrow with the family, Carlos. I will call Inez Melendez now and tell her our visit must be delayed. Or would you prefer to meet them tomorrow? Perhaps you and Lourdes can correspond while you are away and get to know each other so that you can be betrothed as soon as you return."

"No, Mama," I insisted, "It would not be fair to--what is her name? Lourdes?--to tie her down to a man who is overseas for the next year and a half. Particularly when I will not be able to correspond with anyone at all while I'm gone."

"Not even the family?" Mama asked sadly, "Not even us?"

"Those are the rules, Mama," I reminded her, "This is how it always is, you know that. Where I go, I can't communicate with anyone." _Especially not on this god-forsaken mission._ I would be on my own for quite a bit of it, and letter-writing was not going to be possible. I'd be too damned busy watching my own back….

"I'll call Lupe Tonio and cancel the meeting with Isabella and her parents."

"Thank you, Abuela." I looked over at Celia expectantly, "And _you_?"

"I see no reason why Eva can't come over and meet you," she defended her plans. "I've told her a lot about you---"

"You will call your friend immediately," Mama ordered, "Carlos does not wish to meet her today."

"And if he isn't meeting Isabella---"

"And Lourdes---"

"He isn't going to meet Eva. It wouldn't be fair." My Mama ruled.

Mateo's voice was low in my ear, "Sounds like you avoided The Dating Game, hermano. Just lucky, I guess."

I sighed miserably. Now I had to get out of the visit tomorrow. No way in hell was I missing my special day--and evening--with Stephanie! "I'm afraid I have plans for tomorrow, so I won't be able to stay. I'm sorry, Mama."

I steeled myself for the look on her face, and urged myself to stay strong. I needed that time with my Babe, and Steph and I _deserved_ it. No way was I going to be pressured to give it up, not for anything, even family.

"But Carlos, mi hijo--"

"You heard Carlito, Teresa," Abuela Rosa interrupted, "He has other plans he can't change. Important plans. Yes? Very important plans?"

I nodded, "Thank you, Abuela."

She smiled, a wicked sparkle in her eyes. "Carlito is a red-blooded man who has certain needs, Teresa. He will be fighting for his country for many long months…he has _special appetites_ that must be satisfied before he leaves. Am I right, Carlito?"

Holy shit, she did _not_ just go there! My Abuela did not just announce to my Mama and my sisters--let alone to my room full of aunts, uncles and nieces and nephews that I was ducking out on the family to get _laid_…..

"Carlos!" My Mama's voice was horrified, "Tell your Abuela---"

"He'll do nothing of the sort," Abuela Rosa winked at me, "He isn't going to lie to his Abuela, are you, Carlito?"

"No, Abuela," I agreed, sighing deeply. _Shit. _I looked at my watch, "Isn't Papa due soon? And Alex?"

"They will be here momentarily," my Mama agreed, looking at the clock on the wall. "If you are finished eating---"

"Satisfying _those '_special appetites' of yours---" my sister Celia said snidely.

"_Enough_, young lady," Mama gave her a firm glance, "Don't speak to your brother that way."

Celia shook her head, taking the plate out of my Mama's hands and rinsing it off before placing it in the dishwasher without another word. She was not happy, but frankly it didn't bother me as much as my Mama's disappointment did. But thanks to Abuela Rosa, the way was free for me to spend tomorrow with Stephanie.

"Hey, Tio Carlos," my nephew Eduardo said excitedly, "Want to play video games with me? I got _War Games_, it's the most awesome game! It's even better than _Search and Destroy_!"

I looked over at Mateo, and he shook his head no in anticipation of my next question. I turned to Eduardo, "Who gave you that game? You're far too young to be playing violent video games!"

"_Everyone_ plays them, Tio Carlos! They're the best! Tomas got them for me, didn't you?" Eduardo looked over at Celia's oldest son and smiled happily, "He's going to get me the new one _The Hunted _when it comes out next month!"

"Tomas is 6 years older than you are, Eduardo," I reminded him, "And he should know better than to give you those games. I am disappointed in you, Tomas!"

The young man in question shrugged, "You're a soldier, Tio Carlos. You know how violent the world is. What's the big deal with a video game? It's not anywhere near as violent---"

"I know _exactly_ how violent those particular games are," I said impatiently, "They are not suitable for boys Eduardo's age."

"Are they truly not?" Mama confirmed with me.

"No, Mama," I said firmly.

"Then you will hand them over to me now, young man," she held out her hand to Eduardo, waving aside his excuses and his stalling. "_Now! _And Tomas--no more violent games for Eduardo or any of your young cousins. You should know better."

Eduardo gave me an unhappy look, which I ignored, and Mateo handed me another bottle of beer. "Here, you look like you need this one even more than you needed the first one."

"That's for damned sure," I said quietly as we made our way into the next room, "What a clusterfuck this suddenly turned into."

He smiled, "Worse Case scenario, remember, _Carlito_? All this and you still haven't spoken to your Papa or Alex yet. That should be tons _more_ fun for one and all."

"_Shit_," I groaned. "Well, at least I'm not getting betrothed to three complete strangers this afternoon."

"This is true," he agreed, "And you _are_ seeing your beautiful woman later tonight and all weekend long. So how bad could the day be?"

I heard my phone ringing and looked down at the caller ID. _Stephanie! _I grinned happily and, looking around to be sure I was unobserved by the womenfolk, I took her call. Her voice warmed my heart, and I drank it in greedily. How could any woman get to me on every level, as Steph did? I was the luckiest man on Earth, for sure.

Moments later, I hung up, meeting Mateo's smile with one of my own. He'd stepped away to give me privacy, but had returned when I'd ended the call. Then I saw a look of puzzlement on his face as he digested my words.

"A _fire_?" he asked, "Is Stephanie all right?"

"She's fine," I assured him, "Just a bit of a problem with a candle and the sniffles. Disaster was avoided, thankfully."

"Let's hope it is here, too," my cousin said quietly, his eyes now focused over my shoulder. "Guess who just showed up?"

I heard my Papa's deep voice, and braced myself for Worse Case scenario.

_Let's hope we can avoid disaster here, indeed…_


	33. Chapter 33

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_A/N: Carlos states in this chapter that in his parents' home, because Abuela Rosa does not speak English, the 'rule' is that everyone speaks Spanish. I'm not going to try to translate the entire chapter's conversations, just a few lines, to get the spirit of the story. It would bog things down if I tried to translate everything, and frankly there is too much danger of bad translations. Just please imagine for yourself that the dialogue is in Spanish, except as otherwise noted, in Ricardo's study._

Chapter 33

_Carlos' POV_

Not surprisingly, my Papa had changed very little since the last time he and I had spent an uncomfortable afternoon pretending that bygones were bygones, and all that had happened in past years had been forgiven and forgotten. As I'd explained to Stephanie, since I'd joined the Army, and especially during my years in Delta Force, I'd grown stronger in my conviction that I had done the right thing in resisting my Papa's constant pressure to join the family business. I wasn't proud of my time as a gang member, mostly because of the hurt it had given my family, but I had learned from my mistakes. They had, along with my other experiences, made me into the man I was today. I saw no reason to constantly apologize to anyone for being true to myself. I never would. Thus there were constant minefields in my relationship with my Papa.

He was a proud man, a rigid man of old World sensibilities, who held the unchangeable belief that a son owed a duty to his family, especially to his father. I was a failure because I had turned my back on his life's work; even though I had left the gang life behind many years ago and had served my country with distinction for many years, I was under no false illusions that in my Papa's eyes it wiped the slate clean.

For that reason, I waited my turn as Papa slowly moved among the family, welcoming guests to his home while deliberately leaving me standing unwelcome, except by my brother Alex. It was yet another 'lesson' I was being taught.…

"Sorry, Carlos," Alex shook my hand and leaned in for a hug, "I suggested we let Manuel do the cooking today, but---"

"But the Old Man insisted you both be there," I nodded, understanding it all, "It doesn't surprise me, really. He's never going to change."

"Abuela Rosa tried to talk him out of it, so did Mama, but you of all people know how he gets when he thinks he's in the right."

"Oh, yeah, this is nothing new," I shook my head, catching Mateo's sympathetic eye. "I'm just glad to get the chance to see you both before I have to ship out again Monday."

"Again? So soon?" Alex looked puzzled, "But you normally---"

"This is far from normal business, I'm afraid. A timetable got moved up and I couldn't avoid it."

"How long this time?"

"Another 18 months, hopefully."

"Hopefully? I don't understand?"

"This one is bad, Alex. Very bad." My voice was low and my expression told him more than my words ever could.

"God, Carlos, are you sure?"

"Yeah. 90% fatality expected. I had to tell Mama and Abuela I was leaving, but they don't know how bad it will be, and there's no way I want them to guess. I need to see you and Papa alone--with Mat as my lawyer--to get some papers signed and get some things explained. In case…"

My brother paled, his eyes riveted to mine. He looked over at my Papa, still delaying his greeting of his wayward second son. "Son of a bitch, this shit stops _now_. It _has_ to." Before I could stop him, Alex pulled away and strode with determination into the small circle of family over which my Papa held court.

"You told him how dangerous the mission is?" Mat asked.

"Yeah, I think he's gone over to get Papa, so---"

"I know, _brace for the worst_. Alex is feeling brave today, huh? It's about time."

"He's feeling _fed up_, is my read. Dangerous for Papa. Good for us. I think I'll have a better chance convincing Alex about Steph than Papa."

"I think you're going to have massive trouble with _both_ of them, frankly. But Alex---_whoa_! Did you see the look your Papa just gave him?"

I had. It had been a look of utter shock at being interrupted, followed by an ill-concealed anger at clearly being called on his deliberate rudeness for leaving me waiting. Papa's anger was never directed at Alex, always at me, so as I'd expected, he immediately looked over Alex's shoulder and focused on me. I saw his lips move, probably asking my brother if I had put him up to this disrespect. It was _always_ my fault….

Moments later my Papa stood before me, his carriage stiff and unyielding. There was a moment of silence, and I finally offered my hand. I knew better than to expect a welcoming hug. I was about to withdraw my hand when my Papa finally took it and shook it with a firm hand.

"It is good that you are home, Carlos."

"It is good to be home, Papa."

"Do not ever ask Alejandro to defy me again," he leaned in to warn me, while I kept my temper and did not even attempt to defend myself.

Surprisingly, Alex came clean immediately. "It was not at Carlos' request that I spoke with you, Papa. It was my decision alone. There is information Carlos needs to share with you. With us. Important information that cannot wait."

"Is this true, Carlos?" My Papa gave both Alex and me a measuring glance, that blank face of his descending so that he was now unreadable. Naturally, there was no apology for misunderstanding my so-called part in the affront paid to his importance before the family. I hadn't expected one, so I wasn't disappointed.

"I ship out Monday for another 18 month deployment, Papa. It is something I need to discuss with you and Alex privately. Mateo, if it is permitted, will need to print my Will on your printer and I would like both you and Alex to witness it."

"Dios. In my study, now." My Papa's voice seemed lower, more urgent, and I wondered if I imagined the sudden unsteadiness to his walk as we followed him into his private domain.

The procession of the four of us caused a stir, with my Mama and Abuela shooting unhappy looks at each other and probably wondering if a new fight was about to break out between Papa and myself. I gave them a quick wink to signal that all would be well, and my Mama allowed herself a small smile. Abuela simply looked suspicious….

"Papa?" Celia's voice followed us, and he never turned around once, so the next gaggle of conversation that formed was my four sisters, trying vainly to speculate on what exactly was going on and why. I saw Alex give Celia a quick pat on the arm and a soft word of reassurance, but I was too busy following Papa and Mateo into the study to hear what those words were.

Once Alex joined us a few moments later, he closed the door behind us. Not liking the glint in Abuela Rosa's eye, I switched to English lest her ear be pressed to the door to overhear whatever was going on inside the study. I then explained to both my Papa and Alex how serious the upcoming mission was, and what I proposed Mat do for me. Getting my Papa's consent, Mat pulled a thumb drive from his pocket and seated himself at my Papa's computer to make the requested changes to my Will and print the pages out for signature.

"You have not told your Mama and Abuela about this?"

"No, Papa. Not about the seriousness of the mission. I had to tell them I was being deployed---"

"You gave _them_ the news before you spoke with _me_?" His voice revealed his upset, and the blank face was beginning to crumble. This was not good….

"I had no choice, Papa. Unfortunately. They had planned on inviting guests…three women…for me to meet. I had to tell them there was no possibility that I would be---"

"That silliness. _Women! _They have women and babies on the brain! You have no time for women while you are in the Army. I will handle this ridiculousness once we finish here."

"They've already cancelled their plans," I said, "I told them it was not going to happen, but to do that, I had to reveal that I was due to leave Monday."

"This paper---"

"My Will---"

"This _paper _you ask me to sign for you. We have to do this today while people are here? You could not come by the house tomorrow morning to deal with this business?"

"I'm not going to be here tomorrow morning, I'm afraid, Papa."

"I understood you were shipping out Monday, Carlos. Did I misunderstand?"

_Shit_. _Here we go._

"I had plans for tomorrow that I could not alter, Sir."

_The less said the better._

"Plans? What plans?"

_Here it came._

"Papa, Carlos has other friends he needs to say good bye to," Alex interrupted me, and thankfully his assumption gave Mateo the time he needed to finish printing the Will and stand up to diffuse any potential problems.

"Carlos, you need to take a few minutes to look this over," Mat motioned me over to the desk, where he lowered his voice. "Note particularly these provisions I've added. Boilerplate, but in this case, definitely necessary."

I read quickly and carefully. Mat had included a provision that said that, in the event Stephanie predeceased me, the estate would go to the family, as I'd originally planned. A second clause stated that, should Steph die within 6 months of me, her family would not benefit from my Will, but that money would then revert to my secondary beneficiaries: my parents, Abuela, and siblings.

I nodded, "This is fine, Mat. Thank you."

I had expected him to include something of the sort, and it was exactly what I wanted. My family had no idea of the extent of my fortune, or of how it was achieved. Nor had Stephanie; money did not matter to her and I hadn't shared that part of my life with her yet. The reason I had reacted so angrily to my nephew Tomas giving his younger cousin the violent video games--the reason I knew _exactly _how violent they were--was because I _myself _had authored those games. I had come up with _Search and Destroy _after my first tour in the Army; Mateo had submitted it to a client of his who had bought the game and had it manufactured to great success. The royalties had given me $200,000 and a taste for creating more video games. I'd been contracted to create _War Games _and _The Hunted_, and been paid more than in my wildest dreams. Nothing in the games violated my Delta Force confidentiality agreement, and I knew I could fund a new security business with what I already had in the bank, even after laying out a tidy sum for Stephanie's jewelry.

"You want us to sign the Will now?" Alex made his way over to the desk, but I motioned him to stop.

"I have to say something about this first. This isn't my original Will. This is a new one I asked Mateo to revise for me so I could make a big change I needed. You aren't going to like it--especially Papa--but my mind is made up and I don't want to fight over it."

"What have you done now, Carlos?" My Papa glared at me, "You are too defensive over this paper. You have something in it that you are ashamed of. What is it?"

"I'm not ashamed of my decision. I simply know you well enough to know you will not be happy with the fact that I've named Stephanie Mazur my beneficiary instead of the family, as I'd originally planned."

"Stephanie Mazur?" My father bellowed, "_Who_?"

"Who is Stephanie Mazur?" Alex asked. "And why is she so important to you?"

"She is the woman I love," I announced proudly, "And the woman I intend to marry as soon as I get back from the mission. If I _do_ get back, it's only because of her faith in me and our future together."

Well, so much for preventing Worst Case scenario. The expected shit hit the fan moments later.

"I _refuse_ to sign this paper of yours," my Papa thundered, "I have not met this woman. I have not even _heard _of this woman before today. Who is she and why have you not brought her to meet me and your Mama? Who are her parents? How long have you known her?"

"Carlos?" Alex' voice was uncertain, "What can you tell us about her? Have you met her yet?" He asked Mateo, who slowly shook his head no.

"Mazur is not a Cuban name," my Papa continued, "Are any of her people Cuban?"

"No. Stephanie is half Italian, half Hungarian."

"Is she with child?"

"No, Papa, she is _not_ pregnant. Nor do we plan for her to be before we are married."

"Good. Then you do not have to marry her at all. Certainly not until your Mama and I meet her and decide if we will give our blessing to your union."

"Regardless of whether you give your blessing or not, I still intend to marry Stephanie. I love her, and she loves me."

"Why is she not here now? What are you ashamed of?"

"I'm not ashamed of anything. She is a bridesmaid in a friend's wedding as we speak. That is why she could not be here." _That and the fact that I'm not crazy enough to introduce her to this family and then leave her alone to its mercies for 18 months._

"What about tomorrow?" asked Alex, "Can you bring her tomorrow? We can meet for dinner, right, Papa?"

"We are working tomorrow evening, Alejandro," my Papa reminded him.

_So even meeting Stephanie wasn't important enough to close the damned restaurant for! Amazing!_

Alex and Mateo both looked at him as if he were insane.

"Surely to meet Carlos' novia---" Alex tried again.

"Carlos doesn't _have _a novia," my Papa thundered, "He isn't going to mention marriage to this woman until his family has met her and we have given our approval."

"_Carlos_ is tired of being told what he is going to do," I said sarcastically. "_Carlos_ is going to do whatever the fuck he _wants_ to do, and submitting the woman I love for approval by the family is not on the radar. Right now I am focused on protecting her interests while I'm gone and in case I do not return from the mission."

"90% fatality rate, Papa," Alex repeated, "We need to settle down and stop shouting and work this out in a reasonable way. Carlos?"

"Here, here," agreed Mateo.

"Fine," I said, waving my arm and forcibly taking hold of my temper which--as usual--rapidly escalated whenever my Papa started issuing his damned old World ultimatums.

"I refuse to sign this paper until I have met this woman," my Papa repeated stubbornly. "And I refuse to allow Alex to sign it, either."

"_Excuse me_?" my brother whipped his head around incredulously.

"It is an insult to the family," Papa said, "As my elder son, you owe me your loyalty. This kind of loyalty your brother Carlos has never learned."

"And never will," I muttered.

"_Dios_! You go off to war--tell us that you may die--and then pronounce that you have a woman you love whom we have never met and may never meet except to hand over your property to her while she and her new man prepare to spend it."

He did _not_ just go there.

"Tio Ricardo--"

"Papa--"

"_Enough_! I will not stand here and permit my woman to be insulted by anyone, whether he is family or not. I will find some _other_ witnesses---"

"Carlos!" my cousin and my brother both raised their voices and blocked the door as I headed purposefully for the exit. "Please!"

Worst Case scenario. Damn it all. I bit my lip and then exhaled, turning to face my Papa.

"I will arrange for you to meet Stephanie tomorrow night----"

"We will not be----"

"At _Rosa's_. I will bring her for dinner. Mateo will meet her first, I will introduce him at the bar while we are waiting for dinner. He will be introduced as a friend, not as my cousin."

Alex looked over at Mateo, who nodded his agreement to the plan.

"And then you will introduce her to me and to the rest of your family? I will reserve the private dining room and inform your Mama and the family----"

"No, no private dining room. No Mama and no family. Just you and Alex and Mateo. Mat is a friend of the family, you are the restaurant owner and Alex is the chef."

"Absurd! Insulting! I refuse to participate in this sham!" he howled.

My Papa was clearly infuriated and his face began to redden, instead of its normal caramel shade. He and Alex looked alike; I took after my Mama with my mocha-latte skin. My sisters were a mix of both of my parents. As for Abuela Rosa: she looked nothing like my Papa: he had inherited his looks and his temperament from my Abuelo Alejandro.

"Carlos, can we not do this some other way?" Alex at least recognized that I wasn't going to be bullied or insulted into changing my mind. "Why do you not want to introduce the family to Stephanie?"

"Is she some slut you picked up in a bar?" my Papa asked suspiciously, "You did not answer how long you've known her or anything about her family."

"Stephanie is _not_ a slut, and the quickest way to get me to walk out of here _forever_ is for you to say anything even remotely like that again. I am not a naïve fool, nor am I led around by my cock like some lovesick teenager. I know Stephanie long enough and well enough to know she is the _only _woman I will take as my novia, if God gives me that great honor. You will meet her _my_ way or _no_ way. And you will _not _insult her or that I will _never_ forgive or forget."

My Papa and I glared at each other, the room almost explosive by this point. I met his eye and refused to blink. I could see his eyes darkening and his hand shaking in fury. He knew damned well that I was very capable of fulfilling my threat of leaving and never coming back to his house. If my mission ended in tragedy, he would have thrown away his last moments with his son…and _still_ lost, because Stephanie would still inherit my estate, irregardless. And he would need to explain it all to my Mama and Abuela Rosa, not to mention my four sisters. They too would never forgive or forget.

"Why are we not permitted to introduce ourselves as your family? And why are only the three of us permitted the…_honor_…of meeting this mystery woman?"

I took a deep breath, recognizing my victory. Now I could afford to show some weakness and explain my position more fully. "Because I don't want the women to pry her with questions and chase her around town for the next 18 months vetting her as a candidate for my hand. Which you know very well they _would_. I would come home to my woman fed up with Celia's nosiness or Pilar's bossiness, and Mama and Abuela Rosa would have her lined up for Sunday dinner every week and ----"

"True." My Papa startled me by his admission, then looked down to examine his immaculately polished shoes for the next 5 minutes as he thought further about my words. "The women will make this a mess, for sure. I can…almost…sympathize with Stephanie Mazur. If indeed she is a good girl. That remains to be seen. I will not be forced into extolling her virtues. If I like her, I will say so. If I don't, I will say so."

"Agreed," I said, looking over at Alex.

"I'm in," Alex shrugged, "But _you_ get to explain this all to Mama and Abuela Rosa come 18 months from now."

I almost thought--surely not?--that drew a smile from my Papa. But it disappeared almost as soon as it appeared (if in fact it had been there at all). "Your Mama will not be pleased, nor will your Abuela. You will take complete responsibility, Carlos."

"Again, _agreed_," I acknowledged. "Just for the record, Stephanie herself will be infuriated not to be told you are family. She would love to meet you, but it is _my _choice not to do it. I do not want her to feel too attached to the family in the unlikely event she should meet someone in the next 18 months----"

Alex's eyes widened.

My Papa took a deep breath, "You sound as if you have no faith in her--"

"I have _every _faith in her," I corrected him, "But I still can't believe my good fortune in meeting the woman of my dreams--my soul mate. When I have nothing I can offer her now and cannot give her a future until I return from this mission. It is not fair to tie her down, but she tells me she will wait for me, and I believe her."

"There will be other missions then, Carlos," my Papa reminded me.

"Yes, Papa, but after this one I will have only _one_ more. Then I will leave the Army and begin my life with Stephanie and our new family."

"You are leaving the Army for her?" I had surprised him yet again.

"Yes, I've decided. She doesn't know. I'll start a business with a few Army buddies of mine. A security business. It has long been a plan of mine. When I begin to raise a family, I'll need a secure job where I'm home and able to handle my responsibilities as a husband and a father."

"I don't know what to say," Alex shook his head, "You've got this all planned."

"There is nothing else to be said, then," my Papa sighed, "This will either be a good thing or a terrible tragedy. Again, you alone must take responsibility for your actions."

"I am happy to do so," I responded, "Do I have your agreement? Will you meet her at 8pm at the restaurant and be introduced only as the owner of _Rosa's_?"

"I agree," said my Papa, "Do I have your word of honor to bring Stephanie Mazur to the restaurant to meet us tomorrow night at 8pm?"

"You do," I held out my hand, offering to shake.

My Papa held out his hand and we solemnly shook hands on our agreement. Afterwards, he picked up the pen from the desk and asked, "Where do I sign?"

Alex exhaled, as did Mateo, and I confess that I myself did so as well. It was the best result I could have hoped for.

Disaster had been averted.

Or so I thought.


	34. Chapter 34

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 34

"Omigod! Stevie! Stevie! Are you alright? Can you get up, sweetie?"

Tina's voice broke through my consciousness, and I winced as I opened my eyes and took in the concerned sea of faces gathered around me. Then I realized I was lying on my back, my rear end sore as blazes and the wind completely knocked out of me. To add insult to injury, the slit in my dress had ridden up so that I was giving a very real display of bare leg like no real lady would ever do in public. My mother, God forbid she ever heard of it, would be mortified at that alone! And even more puzzling, I was shoeless on my left foot.

I moaned in both physical and psychological dismay, "Oh, crap! What the hell happened? What am I doing down _here_?"

"It looked to me like you got dizzy at the top of the stairs, and you fell, sweetie," Stella watched as Tina helped me to sit up and I quickly tugged my dress down. "You okay?"

"Just sore. Where'd my shoe go?" I looked around, deliberately avoiding Fred Higgenbottom, who had pushed to the front of the crowd and was squinting at me in definite recognition. All I could think was: _distract and deny_!!

"Here you go, Steph," Amanda leaned down, my size 7 ½ stiletto in her hand, "It flew off your foot when you tumbled down the stairs. It hit Tommy in the head."

"Who's Tommy?" I mumbled, my face reddening. I swear, these kinds of things only happen to _me_…..

"He's the videographer." She pointed over at an elderly man who was sitting unhappily on the floor rubbing his head. "It knocked him down, but fortunately, the camcorder is undamaged."

"Thank God for that," I exhaled, "I guess I wrecked both the wedding _and_ the reception, huh?" I looked over at Stella and Patrick in misery.

"You did nothing of the sort, lass," Patrick's father Shamus made his way over to where I was seated and leaned over to help me to my feet, "Tommy's fine, just taken aback to have a gorgeous young lassie throw herself at his old gray head after all these years a single solitary man." He winked, his Irish brogue exaggerated for my benefit, "Tis old Tommy's day you've made, my lovely lass! Now let's make sure you aren't hurt, shall we?"

I stood, and tested my limbs, "I'm fine, thanks so much, Mr. O'Reilly. My butt just hurts."

"It's Shamus, and I have the perfect solution for what ails you," he insisted, calling over to his nephew Sean who stood watching in concern, "Make yourself useful, boy! Get the fair lass a glass of Bailey's Irish Cream on ice."

I grinned, "Yeah, that'll do it, all right." I loved the smoothness of the drink and it was hard to keep the smile off my face as I was fussed over by several members of the O'Reilly clan, who were as charming as anyone I'd ever met. And they were all lookers, too!

Patrick and Stella joined me as I sat at the nearest table and sipped my drink, "I don't want to ruin your photos or anything, so just ignore me, okay?" I said sheepishly.

"Never mind about the photos, or the video, for that matter," Stella waved her arm dismissively, "You get your breath back and we'll do it again the right way."

_Well_, I thought, _that was a mixed blessing_: on one hand, I would have to stand up in front of everyone and pretend my humiliation hadn't happened; on the other hand, I now had a perfectly good excuse for walking like I'd been screwed senseless.

"I took care of the video," Patrick whispered, "Tommy isn't going to include the accident in it, and I made an announcement that we'd be very disappointed to see any photos of it. As far as we're concerned, _it never happened_."

"You're a sweetheart," I sighed, "No wonder Stella's crazy in love with you!"

"He's got brothers!" Shamus interrupted, teasingly, "The O'Reilly clan would love to have you as a daughter-in-law, young lady. Any time, any place."

"Thanks, Shamus, but I'm already as good as promised," I smiled, "Although I have to admit: you guys give one hell of a party!"

Moments later, my Bailey's finished and my composure restored, we proceeded to make our way to the stairway again, and once again we started the procession. By this time the alcohol had made its way into my system and I was beginning to feel pretty damned fine. _Freddie Higgenbottom, be damned!_

This time the show went flawlessly, and before I knew it, we were finished and on our way towards the dais to begin the reception. The band was in fine form, and Patrick and Stella danced their first dance to "their song", "What Are You Doing The Rest Of Your Life?"

I was teary-eyed watching my friend and her new husband dancing cheek to cheek, so obviously in love. Oh God, how I wanted this for Carlos and me! I was wiping my eyes yet again when a certain former high school teacher of mine loomed over my chair.

"I _knew _it was you!" His voice was triumphant, as it always was whenever the nasty bastard had caught one of his students in trouble and he could make their life miserable.

Unfortunately for him, I was determined not to let him get to me. I'd gotten an answer to the question of why he and his wife were guests: Sean had told me that Bertha Higgenbottom nee Murray was a friend of Patrick's grandmother. And, for once, luck was on _my_ side: they now lived in retirement in Lexington, Kentucky, and had returned only to attend the wedding. Which meant that they'd be leaving town tomorrow morning and there was no way on earth that my mother would hear about my unfortunate incident in the hallway on the way to Carlos' room….if my plan worked, that is. Which it _would_, thanks to my close friends and their complete determination to lie like rugs--openly and often!

"Do I know you?" I said with a completely blank face.

"Stephanie Michelle Plum," he pointed his gnarled finger at me and cackled.

"_And_? I know my own name, thanks much." I gave him my best '_so what_?' stare.

His eyes squinted and the triumphant smile wavered just a bit. "You told me you were _Carla Clark_. A professional bowler, no less. I knew you were lying to me, though."

"Who's Carla Clark? I have no clue who or what you're talking about!" I said firmly, getting Tina's attention with my raised voice.

She hustled over, accompanied by Amanda, Ruby and Moira. "Are you okay, Stevie?" Tina asked, giving him a nasty look. "Is this guy bothering you?"

"Tina Eloise Minardo, it figures. You were always the Ethel to her Lucy."

True, she _had_ been: we'd been notorious in school, and I couldn't help but smile to myself. Some of the adventures Tina and I had gotten into were the stuff of which legends were made. Like the time we'd stolen the mascot costume from the boy's locker room and they'd had to play the big Thanksgiving football game without their lucky blue bear to cheer them on. They'd lost, naturally. Why had we done it? Because dip-shit Tyler Lorenzo who wore the damned costume had cheated on Tina with one of the bimbo cheerleaders. And Tyler got the sack for losing the costume. Ah yes, I could see the long-ago victory reflected in her sparkling eyes, as well. _It was on again_….

"Who the hell are _you_, anyway?" she challenged him.

"Who am _I_?" he asked incredulously. "I'm Fred Higgenbottom. Your high school teacher, as if you didn't know."

"Did we have a Higgenbottom at all, Stevie? I don't remember one."

He was livid. "Sophomore Algebra, Miss Minardo. You were both _hopeless_ students--not that it should surprise anyone here."

"Oh yeah, _now_ I remember you! You always were an egotistical butthead," I fired back, "And obviously a lousy teacher to boot, because otherwise we'd be better at algebra than we are. But what the hell has that got to do with the price of tomatoes, Higgie?"

"_Higgie_? Well, I never!" He was so irate I thought steam would pour out of his ears at any minute. It really was quite entertaining.

"Maybe you _should _have," Tina commiserated. "You might've developed a sense of humor and gotten that damned stick pried out of your ass somewhere along the way."

"You two were always bold little things," Fred accused us, with again that gnarly finger pointed in my face. "No wonder you grew up to be some little slut catting around the hotel with strange men, all tarted up like you were for sale cheap."

"_Excuse me_?" I sat up imperiously in my chair. "Who did you just call a slut? And a tart? Like I was for sale cheap??"

"I saw you this morning in the wee hours with next to nothing on, looking like you'd been having sex in the hallway with some strange man. Don't deny it, young lady."

"Well, I am sorry to disappoint you, but I wasn't tarted up with any strange man last night--I was with the bride and her bridesmaids at a bachelorette party. Ask any of them. And if you mistook me for someone else--"

"I _know_ it was you."

"Was not."

"Was too."

"Was not."

"Was too."

"You need glasses, then. Because whoever the hell you saw, it wasn't _me_."

Stella and Patrick, alarmed by the raised voices, made their way over to the dais after their dance. "What's going on?"

It was our prearranged plan.

"This is my old high school teacher, and he just called me a _slut_! Do you _believe _it? And he says I was tarted up with some guy in the early morning hours---" I detailed the story, in incredulous fashion, my ire ratcheting up several notches until I almost forgot I'd been doing exactly what he accused me of. _Sort of_, anyway.

"What floor are you staying on? Where did you see Steph, supposedly?" Stella asked, cutting to the chase.

"Eighth floor, right outside my room near the elevator."

"Well, then, you owe her an apology because Steph is staying on the _fourth_ floor, and she was there with _all of us_, all of last night, partying and watching videos!"

He looked around as my friends gathered and vouched for my presence, to a woman. "I don't believe it! It was _you_! Your hair down and disheveled and obscene marks all over your neck and your shoulders that made it crystal clear what all you'd been up to with this scary almost naked guy who'd picked you up!"

"Well, _duh_??" I took off my floral headpiece and stood up, indicating the flawless neck and shoulders that had been the result of Nikki's makeup artistry. "If I had _marks_ all over me this morning, here I am not hiding much skin several hours later. Where are these mysterious marks?"

His eyes raked over me, and I could see for the first time his uncertainty. "Well…."

"Well _what_? Where _are_ they? Gone like _Brigadoon_?" I said, referencing the musical about the magical Scottish village that appeared mysteriously only one day every 100 years.

"Stella?" It was Seymour Markowitz, his wife Esther by his side. "Anything wrong?"

"I'll say there is," Stella said, "This rude person just insulted my friend Stephanie for no reason at all! He called her a _slut_!"

"This doesn't have any place at this wedding, sir," Mr. Markowitz gave him a nasty glare. "Stephanie is a good friend of my daughter. I don't even know who _you_ are. And I don't much _care_…."

"Stephanie? What's the matter with you, dear lass?" Shamus O'Reilly joined the newlyweds and the Markowitz', his eyes sympathetic. "Is this old goat hitting on you? Fred, she's young enough to be your _granddaughter_, leave the lass alone!"

Fred whirled around to deny the insult, and seeing my best way out, I suddenly burst out crying, appealing to Mr. O'Reilly helplessly, "He…he….told me I was a _slut_! He called me a hooker for sale and said I picked up this man and was tarting around with him near his room on the eighth floor, but I'm not even staying on the _eighth _floor, my room is on the _fourth_ floor and they all told him it _wasn't_ me, but he said---"

"How _dare_ you insult a guest at this wedding! And a good girl like _Stephanie_, of all people! I don't care to whom you're married, you get the hell out of here _now_! Patrick, he needs to go! You've got a hell of a nerve, Higgenbottom! Your wife is over there getting _blotto _as usual…go see to her, and _both_ of you get the hell out of here before I toss you out myself!"

Long story short, Fred Higgenbottom and his Mrs.--who'd indeed been drinking non-stop since the minute she'd gotten to the reception--were shown the door, his accusation completely discredited. Which should have made me feel bad, I guess, because by the time he was frog-marched to the door by Shamus, Patrick and Sean, with Bertha weaving unsteadily beside him with a glass of whisky in her hand, Mr. Higgenbottom was looking completely miserable and was even willing to concede that perhaps he _had_ made a dreadful mistake and hadn't seen me at all.

"Do _not_ feel guilty," Stella whispered, "He's a horrible old man, and if I'd known he was going to be so nasty to you or Tina because of high school I'd have told Patrick not to invite Bertha, no matter what his grandmother thought."

"I'm just sorry---"

"No, _I'm _sorry--you are my guest and even if he did catch you with your Hunky Stud, he had no right to call you insulting names. He goes, and Bertha goes too. She's too drunk already to know where she is, so I doubt she'll miss out on much at the reception other than treating us all to the sight of her passing out dead drunk and falling on her face into the wedding cake."

"You're a true friend. And a gorgeous bride. You look radiant. I'm glad I didn't ruin it for you, Stella."

"You didn't; you were crying because you were happy for me and because you're in love with your guy, and neither thing ruins my wedding. And slipping on the stairs wasn't your fault."

"_Actually_---"

"You were blinded by the flash; that's my story and we're sticking to it," she smiled, giving me a loving hug. "Now let's have some fun dancing and then we'll get down to some good eating. Shamus is quite taken with you, _lass_!"

"He's very sweet. I hope he's not going to get in trouble with his mother for tossing out her friend…."

"Shamus won't care; it's fine, he'll just tell his mother Fred hit on you and that will be that. And let the bastard try to talk his way out of it," she giggled, "The official story is that he hit on you and you turned him down and then he got insulting in retaliation. End of story."

"Wow, I was just asking you guys to vouch for my whereabouts this morning, not go this far."

"We've all got your back, sweetie! No one bad mouths our friend and lives to tell the tale. And certainly no one does it and is a guest at my party!"

"You're awesome."

"I'm lucky I have good friends like you, who let me go nuts on you this morning and didn't wack me on the head and tell me off," she admitted, grinning.

"You were out of control, but I understand why," I agreed, "I'm glad your mother backed down and agreed to come."

"Yeah, me too," she sighed, "Patrick and I worked too damned hard to make today special to have it ruined by my mother. The ceremony was gorgeous, just what I hoped it would be. Not that my mother is thrilled, but---"

"She was crying, though," I revealed, seeing a surprised look on Stella's face. "So no matter what she is saying now, she definitely was touched by your vows--and who couldn't be? They were so heart-felt, I couldn't help but think---"

"Yeah, your face told the story. You're in love with your guy." Stella whispered, "I've got my fingers crossed for you both."

I told her a bit about Carlos being called away on Monday, and she shook her head sadly, "Sweetie, I'd go _crazy_ if I couldn't see Patrick for 18 months. Let alone if he was in battle and there was a chance at all he'd be hurt...or more. But I saw how Carlos looked at you this morning in the hall outside your room: he's coming back. He loves you. So you lean on your friends until then, and comes his return, I'll be dancing at _your_ wedding, deal?"

"_Deal. _Um….if it's okay? Carlos wants to sneak in for a dance or two once he gets back from his going away party."

"Good, I'm glad," she smiled, "Make it dancing and cake and champagne and that'll be the best present you can give me. I want you happy, Steph, you _deserve_ it!"

I had the best friends in the world. And I couldn't wait to be in my man's arms dancing and then heading upstairs and making love all night long……..

And then we'd have all of Sunday together, day and night. Until Monday morning, when a part of me would die until once again Carlos was back with me safe in my arms and we started our future together.


	35. Chapter 35

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 35

I love cake. _Any_ kind of cake there is, in fact. Birthday cake being my absolute favorite, probably because of all those deliciously tasty icing roses that make me close my eyes and just go YUM. But wedding cake runs a close second, and this particular wedding cake was, I had to admit, the most beautifully-crafted and ornate cake I'd ever seen.

It was enormous: the base consisted of four white columns inside of which sat a lit fountain surrounded by flowers; on top sat two layers of intricately decorated white cake that were, in turn, the base for another smaller layer of white cake that rested on four columns and another layer of fragrant flowers. The decorative bride and groom stood proudly on top of the cake in front of a heart shaped in lace. Each side of the cake featured a lacy stairway down to yet another layer of cake. On the stairway were tiny figures representing each of her 6 bridesmaids and groomsmen, three on each side of the cake. Two double-tiered smaller white cakes, also intricately decorated, were arranged beside the two lace stairways, and acted as the landings of the stairway. As Irish tradition dictated, the top layer of the cake was an Irish whiskey cake which was to be saved until the christening of the couple's first child. I had never seen anything so beautiful, and I couldn't imagine cutting into it and destroying the magnificent structure.

The groom's cake, however, was my particular favorite: it was five layers of cake in all, with the most delicious looking mocha-colored icing, piped with ornate white designs on each layer. Fragrant flowers matching those used in the wedding cake surrounded the base and rested on top of the cake, which was held aloft from the bottom four layers by 6 crystal goblets, which acted as columns.

Stella told us that for his traditional Groom's Cake, Patrick had requested a Bailey's Irish Cream cake. The cake, she promised, was indeed delicious: it was made of white cake, with a coffee-butter cream frosting, with Bailey's spiked Bavarian cream filling between the layers. Since my favorite donuts were Boston-creams, and I loved Bailey's Irish Cream, I was more than eager to taste the delectable looking cake.

The reception, despite our earlier misgivings, had gone tremendously well, and the careful mix of Irish and Jewish traditions and customs that Stella and Patrick had crafted for the wedding and the reception had everyone--including Ester Markowitz--smiling by the time the festivities were deeply underway.

The guests were told that the musical porcelain bells they'd been gifted with earlier were to be used instead of clinking glasses. Bells, Patrick explained to us, were meant to keep evil spirits away, and to remind the couple of their wedding vows. Every time we rang the bells, Stella and Patrick had to give each other a kiss; they certainly didn't seem to mind the frequency with which we put the bells to use!

The Irish customs had gotten the reception off to a strange start, in that Stella and Patrick began the reception by taking 3 mouthfuls of a salt and oatmeal mixture as a protection against the evil eye. They also drank a specially crafted mix of honey wine called Bunratty Meade, which was thought to promote virility and guarantee a baby nine months after the wedding. Irish music was played a plenty, and the kilt-clad O'Reilly clan entertained the guests with traditional Irish dances.

Stella confided to us that she was lucky that Mrs. O'Reilly had gone to the great Irish party in the sky: it was traditional for the mother-in-law of the bride to break a piece of the wedding cake on the bride's head as she enters her new house after the ceremony. Apparently, Stella explained, breaking the cake meant they would be friends for life. Since none of us fancied being crowned with birthday cake, we didn't get _that _particular custom, and we were all as happy as the bride was that Stella didn't need to worry about participating in it.

"You seem really up on all the Irish customs," I said to Stella admiringly. "You did a _fabulous_ job planning everything, it's just tremendous fun!"

"Yeah, Patrick and I worked on it together," she smiled, "We both learned a lot about each other's culture and traditions, and it brought us even closer than we were before this. Patrick's father is just over the moon happy--he's not stopped smiling once. I feel really welcomed into the O'Reilly clan…and after Patrick and I do our special surprise, I have a feeling that I'll be an even _bigger_ hit with the Irish side of the family. We've been practicing a special Irish dance for months: Patrick's cousin Meghan taught it to us."

"I can't wait to see it," I said excitedly, "What a marvelous surprise!"

Stella beamed, "I love Patrick so much, Stevie, I just want to make him happy. And my learning his culture has made him so proud and happy that it was all worth it. I expect when you and Carlos finally get together after his mission, you'll be learning _his _culture as well."

"Yeah, Carlos is Cuban," I replied, "I don't know anything at all about Cuban food or customs, but I know I just melt when the man speaks Spanish to me. I'd love to learn Latin dances and have us grow even closer that way. Literally as well as figuratively."

"He's really hot," Stella winked, "If I weren't so in love with Patrick, I'd be desperately jealous of you wrapped in those muscular arms listening to Spanish endearments and being swept up in his arms and carried away for some red-hot lovemaking."

"Oh, God, just the thought of it," I sighed, "I miss him so much! I hope he does get here before the reception ends. I want a few dances with him! And then…."

Stella grinned, "And then I know exactly what else you want. I understand you ducked out on the ladies' trip to the City tomorrow, so you could spend it with your man. Have tons of fun, Stevie, you deserve it!"

"Thanks, sweetie! You have fun on your honeymoon! Two weeks touring Ireland! Wow, that sounds so romantic!"

"It is; I've never been out of the U.S. in my life, so this trip is going to be a dream come true. Hopefully by the time we get back, they'll be a little O'Reilly growing inside me. I can't wait to have Patrick's babies!"

"That's cause you're a woman in love," I smiled, "You'll make a wonderful mother, Stella. Your kids will be very lucky!"

Just then, Sean and his cousin Mick came over with devilish smiles on their faces. Sean leaned over my chair and said, "Fancy a screaming Orgasm?"

I almost fell off my chair! My mouth opened but nothing came out, and I felt myself reddening.

"It's a _drink_, Stephanie," Mick took pity on me, "Vodka, Bailey's and Kahlua."

"Oh," I breathed easier. "I don't know. I've never had one."

"Poor girl." Sean winked suggestively. "I could always take care of that for you, you know."

"I meant the _drink_," I said archly. "I've never had the _drink_! I've had…the _other_….don't worry about me. I don't need your help, thanks!"

Sean laughed unapologetically. He'd been flirting with me the entire day, but we both knew it wasn't destined to go anywhere. "Another choice you might like is an Irish Car Bomb."

"What, pray tell, is an Irish Car Bomb?" I honestly couldn't imagine where they came up with these names!

"Guinness stout, Bailey's Irish Cream, and Jameson whiskey."

"Dear God, I'd fall off my chair and pass out if I drank that!"

"Okay, no Irish Car Bomb. How about an Irish Martini?"

"Which is exactly _what_?"

"Bailey's, Bushmill's Irish whiskey and strong coffee over ice," Mick interjected, "I think you'd enjoy it, Stephanie. Why don't you give it a try?"

"Sounds delicious," I had to admit. Hey, with coffee in there, didn't that guarantee I couldn't get too drunk on the whiskey and the Bailey's? Sounded good to me!

"Yes, please, I'd love to try it."

Minutes later I was enjoying the smooth taste of the drink, and settling in to enjoy the surprise dance that Stella and Patrick had planned for the reception. The newly-married couple took to the floor confidently and the music began as they flawlessly performed the Irish dance.

Stella moved gracefully and flirtatiously across the floor as Patrick followed. The couple embraced, ending the dance with a deeply romantic kiss as the crowd of guests exploded into thunderous applause. Stella was swept into a bear-hug by her new father-in-law, and Shamus, with tears in his eyes, declared her 100% Irish.

Not to be outdone, the Markowitz branch of the family got into the act musically, as well. A traditional Jewish hora broke out to Hava Nagila (which translates to _Let Us Rejoice!_), and Stella and Patrick were lifted off the ground and carried around as a circle of wedding guests danced happily. Many of us had not a clue in the world what we were doing: we just followed the crowd, and a great time was had by all. (Trust me, the liquor helped.)

After some dancing, we took our places for dinner, and it was time for the promised Irish feast of corned beef and cabbage and other Irish favorites. Unfortunately, I wasn't exactly hungry for what was served, so I decided instead to concentrate on another Irish Martini and save my appetite for dessert. Maybe I'd try a piece of _each_ cake? Mmmmm, that sounded like a great plan!

Thankfully, neither Jewish nor Irish traditions called for the Chicken Dance, so we were spared hopping around looking like fools. Stella's bouquet was tossed and it was caught by Moira. Stella's garter was snagged by Patrick's best man Paul. The festivities continued through the late afternoon, and so did the dancing. I was partnered by Sean, Mick, Paul, Shamus, and in fact by most of the O'Reilly clan. I was having the time of my life, but I suspect the three Irish Martinis helped….

Finally, it was time to cut the wedding cake, and Stella and Patrick took their places for the ceremony. Then it was time to enjoy the cake. Did I mention I _love _cake? The wedding cake was not only one of the most beautiful cakes I had ever seen, it was also one of the most delicious cakes I'd ever tasted: it was yellow cake with alternating layers of raspberries and absolutely mouth-wateringly delicious chocolate mousse. I was in cake heaven, truly. Then after a few dances, I was ready to taste the Groom's cake….and damned if it wasn't even _more _delicious! Yep, forget the corned beef and cabbage: I was stuffing myself with cake! Did I mention I love cake?? Oh, yeah, I guess I did: several times. But still---you've never lived until you tasted _this _cake!

I was on my way back from the rest room, having freshened my makeup, when I heard the first notes of the song. I had heard it before, but I had never taken note of the lyrics until now. The petite blonde wedding singer launched into Lee Ann Womack's "I Hope You Dance", and suddenly all I could think of was Carlos and me, and our relationship.

_**I Hope You Dance by LeeAnn Womack **_

_I hope you never lose your sense of wonder,_

_You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger,_

_May you never take one single breath for granted,_

_God forbid love ever leave you empty handed,_

_I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,_

_Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens,_

_Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance,_

_And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance._

_I hope you dance....I hope you dance._

I thought of how hopeless Carlos had been about his future, how convinced he was that this upcoming mission would cost him his life. I remembered how he'd fought against the possibility of a future with me, certain that he was facing death and had nothing to offer me but tragedy. I recalled the emotionally turbulent fight we'd had before he finally allowed himself to embrace the notion that he would live through the hellish mission he faced. How he'd finally held me tightly and admitted how much he loved me and how much he wanted a future with me. _Faith. _Yes, he'd needed to give Faith a fighting chance. And I'd worked to give him that Faith.

_I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance,_

_Never settle for the path of least resistance_

_Livin' might mean takin' chances but they're worth takin',_

_Lovin' might be a mistake but it's worth makin',_

Don't settle for the path of least resistance. The path my mother so firmly pushed upon me: life in the Burg, life as one of the many countless Stepford wives who made pot roast and mashed potatoes for 6pm dinner, who had 2.5 kids and a dog, who lived in a house with a white picket fence and did no flying at all. The women who weren't Wonder Woman, who were perfectly "normal" as my mother defined them. Everything I didn't _ever_ want to become. Everything Carlos had made me promise to fight giving in to, in order to embrace a future that I wanted for myself: a future flying high and living my dreams as Wonder Woman.

_Don't let some hell bent heart leave you bitter,_

_When you come close to sellin' out reconsider,_

_Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance,_

_And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance._

Selling out. Giving up. Settling for second best…or whatever someone else defined as "normal". Neither Carlos nor I were "normal"; neither of us wanted to be. Together, we'd discovered what our secret dreams were, and we'd promised each other to live our dreams and embrace a future together.

_I hope you dance....I hope you dance._

_I hope you dance....I hope you dance._

_(Time is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along,_

_Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder where those years have gone.)_

_I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,_

_Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens,_

_Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance, _

_And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance. _

_Dance....I hope you dance. _

_I hope you dance....I hope you dance. _

_I hope you dance....I hope you dance.. _

_(Time is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along _

_Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder where those years have gone)_

I felt his presence before I saw him. It started as a tingle on the back of my neck, and spread like wildfire through my body. I turned and saw him standing in the shadows just to the left of the door to the reception salon. He stood, dressed all in black, an imposing presence in a well-tailored black suit with a black silk shirt and a black tie. His eyes were the color of dark chocolate, and they met mine, holding on and not letting me look away. He looked magnificent.

I drank in the sight of him, and it sent fire flowing through my veins. This man was mine; I was his. We were halves of the whole. I had never been so certain in my life that we belonged together as I was in that very moment. And I knew, beyond any doubt, that the thoughts I'd had while listening to the song were also in his mind: we knew what it meant to embrace faith and give it a fighting chance. And we knew how important it was to dance. And to fly!

I ran into his arms as he walked silently towards me onto the dance floor, and we embraced tightly and drew strength from each other, as we always had. As we always would. His mouth found mine and the kiss was deep and searing, leaving no doubt in any witnesses' mind that he was my man and I was his woman. When the kiss ended moments later, I stayed wrapped in his arms.

"I missed you," I whispered, my arms tightening around his shoulders and my hands sliding over his muscular frame. God, he felt good!

"I missed you even more," he said firmly, his hands sliding sensuously down my back and following my curves. "You taste delicious."

"Bailey's Irish Cream," I confessed. "Lots of it."

"Forget the Bailey's. You taste like Stephanie Mazur," he corrected me, "Just the naturally delicious flavor of my woman."

"Actually, I have to tell you about that," I smiled, "It's not Mazur--that's my grandmother's name, all right. But she's my _mother's_ mother, not my _father's_ mother. _I know, I know! _Hard to believe, given her frequent sex urges and my mother's anything-but-out-of-the-ordinary-stuck-in-a-rut tendencies. But there you go."

Carlos looked shocked, and I saw a strange look pass quickly over his face. "What is your last name, Stephanie? Your legal name, I mean?"

"Legal?" I teased, "My _exact_ legal name, you mean?"

"Yeah, I need to know," he said intensely, "Tell me."

"_O-kay. _Stephanie Michelle Plum, Wonder Woman and Sex Goddess Extraordinaire. At your service." I gave a flirtatious little curtsey and won a soft slow smile in return.

"I totally agree about the Sex Goddess Extraordinaire. Stephanie Michelle _Plum_, huh? It suits you, for sure! Luscious. Tasty. Delectable. Delicious beyond measure. Meant to be enjoyed slowly, to be consumed in one languorous bite after another, and to melt finally in my hungry mouth…."

_Omigod! _I'd just ruined my panties listening to him and imagining the things he could do--_had_ done--with that mouth of his. I felt my flush deepen head to toe and saw Carlos' delighted smile. He'd meant to tease me--and he'd more than succeeded!

"That wasn't fair," I murmured.

"What can I say? You bring out the big bad wolf in me," he grinned wickedly. "I can't wait to scoop you up in my arms, Babe. To carry you upstairs, peel off your dress slowly and kiss every inch of your magnificent body."

It is a testament to my strength of character that I did not melt into a big puddle on the floor right then and there. "You promised me a dance first," I reminded him firmly.

"That I did," he replied, taking me into his arms as the next song began. "And I have every intention of keeping that promise. I've imagined you in my arms all day. Finally I have my woman back where she belongs. And the song couldn't be more perfect to tell you what I feel for you, Babe. I love you, Stephanie. I always will."

I melted into his arms, and we moved slowly as one, our bodies pressed tightly against each other.

_**Endless Love by Mariah Carey and Luther Vandross**_

_My love,_

_There's only you in my life_

_The only thing that's right_

_My first love, (yeah)_

_You're every breath that I take_

_You're every step I make_

_And I (And I-I-I) _

_I want to share_

_All my love with you_

_No one else will do...(uuuuuh uuuh)_

_And your eyes_

_Your eyes, your eyes_

_They tell me how much you care_

_Ooh yes, you will always be_

_My endless love_

_Two hearts,_

_Two hearts that beat as one_

_Our lives have just begun_

_And Forever(Forever)_

_I'll hold you close in my arms_

_I can't resist your charms(no no no no noooo)_

_And love_

_and, love_

_I'll be a fool f__or you,_

_(honey) I'm sure_

_You know I don't mind_

_Oh, you know I don't mind_

_'Cause baby you,(baby baby baby baby)_

_You mean the world to me_

_OhI know I've found in you_

_My endless love_

_Oooh, and love_

_Oh, love I'll be that fool for you, I'm sure_

_That you know I don't mind_

_Oh you know-I don't mind_

_And, yes you'll be the only one_

_'Cause no one no one can deny_

_This love I have inside_

_And I'll give it all to you_

_My love My love, my love_

_My endless love_

I'd expected that Carlos would be a good dancer, but I had no idea exactly _how _good. He moved with a sensuality that was mesmerizing; his natural grace making me feel as if I were floating in the air as he swept me along into the slow steady dance. I felt every firm muscular inch of his body against mine, and I inhaled the indescribably delicious scent of him as I gave myself to him completely. I've never enjoyed a dance as much in my life; and I moaned softly, my whimpers expressing how happy I was to be where I knew I belonged: with my man.

"Feels so good," I whispered, finally, as the last strains of the song ended. "I don't want this feeling to end. Not ever."

"It's not going to end, Babe," Carlos promised me, "What we have is going to last forever."

We moved languorously into the next dance, and impossibly, Carlos pulled me closer. I damned near orgasmed on the dance floor when I felt how hard he was against my doodah. Holy smoking mother of God! This was beyond anything I'd ever imagined!

_**No Air by Jordin Sparks and Chris Brown **_

_Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air_

_(Jordin) If I should die before I wake_

_It's 'cause you took my breath away_

_Losing you is like living in a world with no air Oh_

_(Chris) I'm here alone, didn't wanna leave_

_My heart won't move, it's incomplete_

_Wish there was a way that I can make you understand_

_(Jordin) But how do you expect me_

_To live alone with just me_

_'Cause my world revolves around you_

_It's so hard for me to breathe_

_[Chorus]Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air_

_Can't live, can't breathe with no air_

_That's how I feel whenever you ain't there_

_There's no air, no air_

_Got me out here in the water so deep_

_Tell me how you gon' be without me_

_If you ain't here, I just can't breathe_

_There's no air, no air_

_No air, air No air, air_

_No air, air No air, air_

_(Chris) I walked, I ran, I jumped, I flew_

_Right off the ground to float to you_

_There's no gravity to hold me down for rea__l_

_(Jordin) But somehow I'm still alive inside_

_You took my breath, but I survived_

_I don't know how, but I don't even care_

_(Both)So how do you expect me_

_To live alone with just me_

_'Cause my world revolves around you_

_It's so hard for me to breathe_

_[Chorus]Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air_

_Can't live, can't breathe with no air_

_That's how I feel whenever you ain't there_

_There's no air, no air_

_Got me out here in the water so deep_

_Tell me how you gon' be without me_

_If you ain't here, I just can't breathe_

_There's no air, no air_

_No air, air No air, air_

_No air, air No air, air_

_No more_

_There's no air, no air Ooohhhhh..._

_[Chorus]Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air_

_Can't live, can't breathe with no air_

_That's how I feel whenever you ain't there_

_There's no air, no air _

_Got me out here in the water so deep_

_Tell me how you gon' be without me_

_If you ain't here, I just can't breathe_

_There's no air, no air_

_[Chorus]Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air_

_Can't live, can't breathe with no air_

_That's how I feel whenever you ain't there_

_There's no air, no air_

_Got me out here in the water so deep_

_Tell me how you gon' be without me_

_If you ain't here, I just can't breathe_

_There's no air, no air_

_No air, airNo air, air_

_No air, airNo air_

There was not an inch of our bodies that were not touching, as Carlos leaned his head in rested it against mine as we rocked together to the rhythm of the love song that perfectly described how each of us felt to be without the other. No air. God, I ached for him, and I knew he felt the same for me.

"I want to stop the world right now," I decided, tightening my hand over his back and slowly tracing his muscular body, feeling him melt into my hands as I did to his. "You and me, here, now, with all the time in the world to be together."

"Mmmmm," he sighed, "That's all I want. You and me forever. God, Babe, you have me so in love with you I can't imagine being without you. It's going to be the longest 18 months of my life. But I'm going to get through it and come home to you, I promise. We're going to have that future we promised each other. No matter what it takes."

"No matter what it takes," I repeated, "I'm going to dream about this moment. Holding you. Feeling you in my arms. Knowing you are mine and no one else's. Always, Carlos."

"Always, Babe. That's a promise."

"I meant to ask you," I remembered suddenly, "What's your last name? I never asked you that."

He paused for a moment, then whispered, "_Manoso_. Which makes you the future Stephanie Michelle Plum Manoso. Sound good?"

"Stephanie Manoso," I repeated, loving the sound of it. "It sounds _perfect_, Carlos. _Ricardo Carlos Manoso. _My lover, my best friend, the man I want to spend the rest of my life with, the man I want to have children with. The man I want to grow old with. The man I'll love every minute of every day until the day I die."

"You make me happier than I've ever imagined possible, Stephanie," he murmured softly, "Happier than I have any right to be. But I'm not going to give up a minute of that happiness, even if I don't deserve it---"

"You deserve it, Carlos," I said firmly, "You deserve it all. You have given me everything I ever dreamed of. Everything I thought I could never have. We just need to get through the next 18 months and then we can have it all. Everything we both want so desperately. It's all there waiting for us."

"Yeah, yeah it is," he lowered his head to kiss my neck and began a slow steady stream of Spanish that had me tingling all the way down to my doodah.

"You're driving me crazy--but I love it," I moaned. "I love it when you speak Spanish to me, Superman. Even if I have no clue at all what the hell you're saying."

He grinned, "I know you do, Babe. And when we get upstairs I'm going to do every last thing I just promised to do to your deliciously sexy body, you seductive little temptress."

"That sounds like a damned good way to end a Saturday," I admitted, "Imagine: wedding cake and lots of red hot lovemaking. And Bailey's Irish Cream. What else can a girl ask for?"

We were just about to pull apart and head upstairs when the familiar strains of another love song caught our attention. Stella and Patrick had selected a Barbra Streisand song as "their song", and Stella--being a huge Streisand fan--had asked the band to include quite a few of the singer's hits in their repertoire. The band launched into one now.

_**Evergreen by Barbra Streisand**_

_Love soft as an easy chair_

_Love fresh as the morning air_

_One love that is shared by two_

_I have found with you_

_Like a rose under the April snow_

_I was always certain love would grow_

_Love ageless and evergreen_

_Seldom seen by two_

_You and I will make each night a first_

_Every day a beginning_

_Spirits rise and their dance is unrehearsed_

_They warm and excite us, _

_cause we have the brightest love_

_Two lives that shine as one_

_Morning glory and midnight sun_

_Time we've learned to sail above_

_Time won't change the meaning of _

_one love_

_Ageless and ever evergreen_

As we moved gracefully around the floor, I let the words wash over me, feeling utter bliss at being with Carlos. I knew without doubt that our love was in fact evergreen--it would stand the test of time and grow ever deeper. It was nothing either of us had expected to happen: this weekend was sheer magic. It was a miracle. Fate. Destiny. Whatever you wanted to call it. But it _was_. And since we had met, it always _would_ be. Evergreen.

"What do you say we go upstairs now and make tonight even better than last night?" Carlos whispered finally, as the song drew to an end.

"I say yes," I kissed his lips tenderly, and the kiss suddenly deepened into one of tremendous passion.

Suddenly, I found myself swept up into his arms as he picked me up and carried me off the dance floor.

With a man like that, who the hell needed _cake_? Not _me_, for damned sure!


	36. Chapter 36

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 36

Once Carlos' mouth had met mine in a toe-curlingly hot kiss, my poor scrambled brain completely flew out the window. Had it not been for an amused Tina running after us waving my purse aloft as we exited the salon, I'd have completely forgotten it--and thus I'd have been unable to get into my room once we finally _had _made it upstairs to the fourth floor! That would have been beyond embarrassing--not to mention that it would have put a real damper on my plans to get my man naked and horizontal once we were finally alone!

I was smugly delighted to find that my hungry mouth on his was having the same 'where are my brains?' effect on _him_: he'd carried me to the elevator bank and pressed the button before suddenly groaning, swearing in Spanish, and backtracking to the hotel's sundry shop for another box of Magnum XXL condoms. Can't do without those babies, for sure! Or, more correctly, without them there _would_ be babies for sure!

While we were there at the counter, I snagged a handful of Snickers, Three Musketeers and Hershey's--and a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup for good measure. I heard a soft groan of disbelief. "What are _you _looking at?" I said defensively, "I'm liable to get hungry upstairs, Carlos. I need _these _just as much as you need _those_. Maybe even _more_!"

"Fine, so just add them in then. But, correct me if I'm wrong, Babe: you ate at the reception, didn't you?" He shook his head, digging into his wallet as I took my cue to load up on more sugar. I added two packs of M&M's to the growing pile of empty chocolate-laden calories I intended to consume before the evening was through.

"Are you _kidding_ me? Ate corned beef and cabbage? _Me_? Oh, I think _not_, Superman! Never touch the stuff! Never in a million years! EEE_UUU_!"

"I'm very sure you didn't starve yourself, though, Babe. So the question becomes: how many slices of cake are we talking _instead_? Two? Three? Four? Or do I even want to know? How high are you flying on sugar right about now, Wonder Woman?"

I stuck out my tongue and refused to answer, taking the Fifth Amendment and winning a quick bark of laughter from my amused companion. Damn, the man knew me very well, even though we'd only met just about 24 hours previously! I decided to change the subject instead. "So what did _you_ have to eat today? Something good? Go ahead: make me jealous, Superman. Tell me what you had to eat at your going-away party!"

"Cuban food, Babe. Baby back ribs. Spicy chicken with mango-avocado salsa. Fried stuffed potatoes."

Omigod! I _loved _fried food--this sounded _very_ appealing! "Stuffed with _what_, then fried? Tell me, tell me! I need all the details!"

"Basically they're balls shaped out of mashed potatoes, then stuffed with a mixture of ground beef, onions, garlic and olives sautéed in tomato sauce and white wine. Then the mashed potato balls are dipped in egg whites and rolled in bread crumbs and fried. Cubans call them _Papas Rellenas_. I love them."

"Mmmmm, they sound delicious, Carlos!" And they did. "What else did you have?"

"_Empanadas. _Which--before you ask--are ground beef turnovers made with cheddar cheese, corn and tomato sauce. I'm addicted to them just as much as you are to chocolate, Babe. I don't get them very often, either. So when I _do_ get the chance, I enjoy them--_a lot_!"

I grinned, "So--I'm gonna need to help you burn off some of those extra calories, is what I hear you sayin' to me? Am I right about that, Carlos?"

The wolf-grin returned, "I'm sure you'll think of _some_ way to help me work things out, Babe. I'll put myself totally in your hands, how about that?"

"Damned skippy you will! And then you'll put yourself somewhere _else_, too--the very minute we get the damned door to my room open."

"_Rrreally? _Are you propositioning me openly--right here in the corridor, Babe? Where anyone who opens their door can hear you? _Do tell_!"

We were wending our way down the fourth floor hallway by this time, and my hands were frantically focused on unloosening his tie and unbuttoning as many of his shirt's buttons as I could possibly reach. Carlos didn't seem to mind very much, a smug smile on his handsome face.

"What does it _sound _like, Big Boy? I don't care who knows it: I'm planning on getting you naked so I can ride you like Zorro all night long. How do you say _that_ in Spanish?"

"Voy a explotar a mis pantalones si usted no se para."

I squinted suspiciously, "Hey! What about _Zorro_?"

"What about him? Let him find his own red hot woman! I have _mine_ right here!"

"Yeah, but you didn't say _Zorro _in that whole Spanish thingy--so obviously you didn't translate what I told you to. What did you say instead? And _tell me--_because I have my own ways of making you talk, Superman."

Carlos laughed delightedly, "I said, _I'm going to explode in my pants if you keep talking like that_. You satisfied now, Wonder Woman?"

I giggled happily, kicking my stiletto-clad feet in triumph, "Woo hoo!! Stephanie Michelle Plum, Sex Goddess Extraordinaire!"

"That you are, Babe," he leaned in to kiss me and his tongue slid deeply into my mouth where I captured it and sucked it for all I was worth. "God, I love you so much, Steph."

"I love you too, Carlos," I dove in for another kiss then broke it off and demanded that he walk a hell of a lot faster, lest I be forced to take him then and there in the hallway, passersby be damned! Frankly, it looked like he didn't mind my threat _at all_….

Moments later, still held in his arms, I dug into my purse and used my key card to open my door. Carlos carried me into my room, kicking the door firmly shut with his leg and striding over to the bed where he lowered me gently. He quickly pulled off his suit jacket and followed me down onto the bed, where we spent the next 20 minutes making out, teasing and tantalizing each other with slow deep wet kisses, and trying to hold on to our own self-control while simultaneously causing our partner's self-control to snap. It was a remarkably fun duel, and one I was (not surprisingly) destined to lose.

Before long, I ended up begging him to fuck me, and he smiled a wicked wolf grin and reminded me, "Wait a minute! I thought you were going to ride me like Zorro, Babe. I'm _really_ looking forward to that."

I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders and ran my fingers along his cheek. "Oh, trust me, I _am--_I'm just waiting for you to lie on your back so I can climb on and have my way with you."

"So just roll me over and take me." He grinned, "I'm easy. _More_ than easy, in fact. Where _you're_ concerned, at least."

"_Manhandle_ you, you mean? You'd like that, huh?" I teased, giggling.

"You can do any damned thing you want to me, Babe. I'm _yours_, now and always."

Now _that_ sounded very promising! I pushed him suddenly, and he obediently rolled onto his back, his dark chocolate eyes sparkling devilishly as I made short work of the rest of his shirt's buttons. I slid his tie from around his neck and threw it over my shoulder. Then I began working on his belt. In no time, I had it unbuckled and tossed aside, his trousers yanked down and his muscular naked chest on display to my lustful eyes. I examined his black silk boxers thoughtfully as my eager hands slid up and down his mocha-latte colored skin teasingly. I was enjoying myself immensely.

"_Hmmmm. _"I pretended to consider my next move carefully, "Now in the interests of full disclosure, Superman: I have to tell you that I haven't quite decided yet if I'm going to strip you completely _first_ and _then_ fuck you senseless---or just fuck you more or less fully clothed like this, and _then_ strip you off and fuck you naked for our _second_ go-round. Right now I'm leaning towards the latter. I'm a very very horny little girl, don't you know?"

"Jesus, Babe," he groaned, "You're _killing_ me here, you know that?"

I playfully straddled him, my dress pulled up to my waist, my gossamer silk panties rubbing against his rock-hard crotch. "You've got a hell of an impressive tent going on down there, Carlos. Is that all for little ole _me_?"

"You know damned well it _is_, you little vixen! Here, lean down so I can get this taken care of---" He pulled me towards him and I felt my halter top snap open. Moments later, he pushed the silk top of the dress carelessly down to my waist and out of his way. My strapless lacy bra followed. My naked breasts were then captured in his hot mouth, and seconds later, I was purring like a kitten in heat. Carlos is _very_ talented orally, and I honestly think I could orgasm from his ravenous mouth on my breasts alone. I certainly wouldn't mind putting _that_ speculation to a test, either!

"Omigod, omigod, omigod! Don't stop, _please_ don't stop!" I didn't even recognize the sound of my own voice, so turned on was I by this point. My head was thrown back now in utter ecstasy, as Carlos deeply suckled each breast in turn sending me into a white-hot fever.

I slowly ground my pelvis over his rock-hard crotch, and heard Carlos' uneven groan of pleasure as he freed my breasts from his mouth for a moment. "If you keep that rocking up, Babe, I won't be able to keep from----"

"So let's not take it slow," I suggested, pulling away to look at his eyes, black and glittering in passion. "Let's fuck hard and fast first! Then we can take it slow the _next_ time. I can't wait a minute more, Carlos. It's been _hours_ since I've had you! I want you inside me _now_! Please! I want to fuck you!"

He murmured something unintelligible in Spanish, and reached unsteadily for the box of condoms that he'd thrown carelessly onto the nightstand. The paper bag fluttered slowly to the floor. I had to help him free one of the condoms from the box, and my own hands shook as I tore the wrapper and sheathed his cock in the XXL protection.

Moments later, my dress hiked up to my waist, my soaking wet panties torn off and tossed across the room, I plunged onto his enormous cock. He clutched my waist with his hands and began to guide me up and down as I rode him. I was euphoric, my lust for him knowing no bounds.

"Yes! Yes! _Yes_!" I began to bounce increasingly fast, grinding my hips, taking what I needed from him even as I gave him the same kind of pleasure in return. "That feels so _goooood_! I can't---I can't---I need---Oh _God_, Carlos!"

"Damn, Babe, you're so tight---and so damned hot!" Carlos groaned, "Ride me, Steph! Faster! _Faster_! Just like that! _Dios! _Oh, fuck, _yes_!"

Panting unsteadily, I quickened my pace, almost beside myself with pleasure. Carlos' huge cock inside me was driving me totally and completely out of my mind, and by now I was literally _screaming_ in delight. Our eyes locked together, I leaned down to take his hungry mouth with mine as I rode him like Zorro, as I'd promised.

He was groaning, and to my surprise by this time _he_ was making even more noise than _I_ was! Deliberately, I clenched my inner muscles tightly and squeezed his cock tightly, causing his molten chocolate eyes to widen and a long steam of Spanish to escape his perfectly shaped lips. The man was loving every second of being taken! I'd had two very satisfying orgasms already, and a third hit like a tsunami as he emptied himself inside the condom with a long scream of delight.

I sighed in pleasure as I finally allowed myself to fall forward onto his chest. His hands slid down my back and cupped my bare bottom, kneading me, and causing me to whimper happily. "That was _sooooo_ good!"

He gave my mouth a long deep kiss, and I wiggled against him as I climbed reluctantly off his now flaccid cock and flopped onto my back. My dress was bunched up around my waist; my hair had been pulled out of its carefully crafted upsweep and was spread out over the pillow like a dark-colored fan. I was a _very_ satiated woman, and I made no secret of it, winning a lazy smile of triumph from my equally-satisfied man.

His voice was raspy, and we grinned in shared delight. "_Damn_, you really know how to make a man happy, Steph! I think we're just lucky the condom held. Kind of a miracle, all told."

"_Mmmmm. _I have to admit: you were _very _cooperative, just as you promised..…"

"I'm a man of my word." He grinned. "And anytime you want to climb on and take another gallop, Babe, I promise to be just as cooperative…."

"That's good to know, Big Boy. Because I'm definitely going to take you up on that offer again tonight. _Several _times, in fact. Guaranteed."

"Oh, _yeah_," he groaned in satisfaction, "That's the best news I've heard in hours. You're extremely gifted in the saddle, Babe. Ride me like Zorro, huh? Damn! You sure did! Christ, that felt fuckin' _great_!"

"Thank you, kind sir," I smirked, "It was fabulous for me too! Now the next question is: when do I get me some _more_ of it?"

"Babe! You just _had_ me," he teased. "You want more of me so soon?"

"I want more of you, all right. _Lots_ more! All night long, in fact! Every second of every minute of every hour. You're downright _addictive_, Superman. Just in case you had any doubts at all about that."

"Back at ya, Ms. Tasty and Delectable As A Plum." He rolled onto his side and began nibbling on my neck as my hands started wandering over him again, "Feel like a shower, Babe? Because I want to get you completely naked so I can--"

"Oh yeah? You _do_, huh? You want me naked? Then what do you have planned for me? Are you planning on fucking me in there, I hope? Right against the wall of the shower? From behind, maybe? That hot thick cock of yours buried deep inside my hungry pussy? Pounding inside me like a piston?" I purred, "Because if the answer is _yes_ then you have yourself a deal---"

His cock twitched, suddenly springing to life again still clad in the condom. "God, Steph, I love it when you talk dirty like that."

"You love it when I talk dirty like _this_?" I rolled onto my side and whispered in his ear, telling him in absolutely clear and utterly descriptive language _exactly_ what else I wanted him to do to my body. "And like _this_? Is _that _what you like, Carlos? You like hearing all about _that_? Then….how about _this_?" I nipped on his earlobe and then proceeded to get raunchier than ever before.

His cock was standing at attention once again, and in minutes we were headed for the shower--and more steamy hot love-making--at a dead run! It had been, after all, a _very_ long day without each other…..


	37. Chapter 37

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 37

_Carlos' POV_

By the time Steph and I climbed out of the shower some time later, we'd exhausted the hot water and used up two more condoms--and I was sporting an ear to ear grin. My Babe has some _very _serious oral skills, and she'd been demonstrating them for me while I tried to keep from howling like a wolf at the moon. I hadn't altogether succeeded in keeping silent; methinks the person in the hotel room next door had to have been out to dinner, or else we'd have had pounding on the wall and/or a very nasty phone call to complain about the noise we were making. Not that _I_ would have cared, mind you. But poor Steph would have probably been mortified!

We were drying off slowly when I caught her eye and decided to show her that my oral skills were the match for her own. But first I had something _else_ I wanted to demonstrate!

"Over here, Babe," I said softly, finishing drying her then tossing the towel carelessly to the floor. "I want you to see something really beautiful."

She came into my arms, and smiled, "_Beautiful_, all right! It's downright criminal for a man to be so gorgeous, Carlos. Those lashes of yours--"

I turned her around so that she was leaning against my chest and facing the bathroom mirror. "I'm not talking about _me_, I'm talking about _you_, Steph. Look right there."

Her expressive face showed her puzzlement for a minute, until I lifted her arms and arranged them up and over my neck. Then I ran my hands lightly over her curvy body, causing her to shiver in delight.

"What are you going to do?" Her voice was breathy with excitement.

"Watch and find out," I grinned. "But I guarantee you're going to enjoy it."

"That I have no doubt about--but I want to know what you're up to, Superman."

"Just showing you what I see when you're in my arms and letting yourself go completely." My hands cupped her breasts and kneaded them gently, feeling her rosy nipples harden like pebbles under my fingers. "Now just relax, Babe. Give yourself totally over to the pleasure and watch how gorgeous you are when you're really enjoying yourself. Like this." I nibbled on her neck, dropping tender kisses down its length as my fingers teased her rosy buds until she let out a loud moan and her mouth opened in surprise.

"Omigod! _Omigod! _Carlos, you're making me crazy!"

I laughed huskily, and then devoted myself to kissing her ear as my hands moved relentlessly down her body, feeling her tummy shiver as I slid my hands over it and landed between her inner thighs. "Now what do you think I should do _next_?" I teased, my hands feathering circles and coming ever closer to her hot center. "Do you think I should…maybe….just touch right _here_?" My fingers skimmed over her pussy lips and she bucked back with a long moan, her tight hot ass rubbing against my ever-hardening cock.

Her eyes widened as she felt how rock hard I was. "_Carlos_!"

"Not yet, sweetheart," I soothed her, "We're not going to rush things this time. No. This time we're going to take things very slowly. First, we're going to do _this_…." My fingers brushed against her slit, and I enjoyed the wail of pleasure she made as my touch got her ready for more. "I think we need to try something _special_, don't you?"

"What?" She was barely able to concentrate on my words, and I felt her squirming so that my hands would touch her exactly where she wanted them to.

"You're cheating, Babe," I laughed softly, "You're trying to speed things up. No fair."

"Yes, fair," she pouted, wiggling her ass so that I too let out a soft moan. "I _need_ this."

"_This_?" My fingers glided over her clit and she let out a happy moan. "Or _this_?" I slid one finger inside her, and she cried out happily. "Which feels better?"

"_Both_," she demanded, "I want both. More."

"More _what_?" I pressed, teasing her, loving the sparkle in her beautiful Caribbean blue eyes. "More _pressure_? Like this?" I took her clit between my finger and my thumb and began to knead it as she bucked in my arms. "Or maybe you meant more _fingers_? Like this?" Without warning, I pushed three fingers deep inside her pussy and began to move them in and out as her eyes widened and she moved with me. "Which _more_ is it?"

"Omigod! That feels so good! Oh _God_!"

"_What_ feels good, Babe?" I grinned, pretending not to know. "You like _this_?" My fingers kept up their pistoning inside her. My other hand brushed her breast and I began again to pinch and tug at her hard nipple. "_MMMMMMM. _Maybe I need to work a little harder on my technique?" I wondered, teasingly. "You haven't come yet. That worries me, Babe. Maybe I'm losing my touch? Or maybe you've had enough sex for the night?"

"No, no, no, no, no," Steph groaned as I pulled my fingers out of her and pretended to doubt the wisdom of proceeding further.

"_No_, Babe?" I teased, allowing my fingers to slip once again inside of her heat. "You haven't had enough yet?"

"Don't stop, Carlos," she whispered, placing her hands on mine and pressing them tighter inside of her. "You're deliberately going slow and torturing me."

"I'm _torturing_ you, Babe?" I grinned, loving her pouting. "I thought you liked it like that? Slow and steady. Just the right amount of pressure, but not too much--so that you just ache the right amount, but don't explode too quickly."

"I _want _to explode quickly," she sulked, her hands locked on mine as she rode my fingers. "I don't want slow and steady. I want it _all_!!!!"

"Like _this_, you mean?" I used both hands on her then, letting the fingers of one hand fuck her deeply and quickly as the fingers on my other hand locked onto her clit and squeezed it, causing her legs to weaken as she orgasmed with a loud scream of joy. "Look at yourself in the mirror, Babe. Right now! See how gorgeous you are! Your eyes are sparkling, your skin is all flushed and rosy and just glowing----"

Sighing, she leaned against me, giving herself over to the pleasure as I took her over the top yet again. Her low deep moans had my cock hard, but this wasn't about me. Not this time. No, I had _phase 2 _in mind next!

I swept her into my arms and carried her into the bedroom, where I lay her down on the bed and spread her long legs so that they draped over my shoulders as I buried my head between them. It was time to demonstrate my own oral skills….

Moments later, Steph's hands ran through my hair and she wailed in appreciation as I devoted myself to sucking her wet hot pussy expertly. There is nothing--nothing on earth--that I love more than pleasuring my woman, and I was determined to make it last. Steph was making happy little noises now that let me know that she was more than pleased with phase 2, and my tongue flicked inside her as I tasted her sweet juices.

We took things very slowly then, as my Babe orgasmed time and again in non-stop rounds of enjoyment. By the time I finished with her, she was a mindless, boneless mass of luscious sweet succulent flesh. And she wasn't exactly sure of her own first name anymore--or so she maintained.

"I can't think. And I can't move," she insisted, as I finally slid out from between her limbs and reached quickly for the box of condoms. "You've totally fucked my brains out."

I gave her a wolf grin, dressing myself in a condom as I ran my eyes over the length of her spectacular body, "Not _yet_ I haven't. But the night is still young, Babe."

She sighed happily as I slid into her, holding her hands over her head and beginning to pound into her as we both took what we needed from each other.

Stephanie is the most sensual woman I've ever met, and the most vocal when she is being fucked. I swear to God, I could come from just the _sounds_ my woman makes! But this time I was hearing little high-pitched whimpers and long moans that took things to a whole new level: she was a _very_ well-satisfied woman by this time! And that boded well for me: Stephanie, when she is satisfied sexually, is a very giving partner, and by this time she was determined to make me just as happy as I'd made her.

All of which is my way of explaining how I ended up lying on my back, staring glassy-eyed at the ceiling and unable to move even a millimeter as I listened to my racing heartbeat and just flat out grinned like a love-sick fool.

We were a fine pair, for sure. Steph lay next to me, panting heavily, her skin covered with a soft sheen of perspiration that matched my own. "Now you really _did _fuck my brains out, Superman! I can't move. Not an inch."

"Me either, Babe." Not that I was complaining, mind you.

"I swear, Carlos, it gets better each time."

I just grinned. It did indeed.

"Did you say something?"

"Uh uh." Carlos Manoso, master of understatement.

"You want to use the bathroom first?"

"Uh uh. Can't."

"Can't?"

"Can't move."

"Me either. I was hoping you'd go first."

"Gimme a bit."

"MMMMMMMMMM."

"You really know how to make a woman happy."

"MMMMMMMMMM."

"Tongue broken?"

I just grinned. I _had _put it to big-time use, after all.

"We could maybe talk for a bit and rest up?"

I yawned. "As long as I don't have to move----"

"Works for me."

"What do you want to talk about, Babe?"

"_Actually_---"

I rolled over on my side, getting a second wind, "You can talk to me about anything, Babe, you know that, don't you? What is it?"

"Ummmm…."

"Anything, Babe."

"_I'm hungry_."

No kidding! We'd torn through more calories than most athletes I could imagine. And she hadn't eaten much but cake, after all. "You want room service, Steph?"

"_Ummmm…_."

"No room service?"

"McDonald's?"

I groaned.

"_Please_? Pretty please?"

I considered solemnly. "What are you offering to make it worth my while?"

"I'll pay?" Her voice was hesitant.

"Hell no," I said firmly, "_I'll _pay. But you need to make it worth my while if I have to move."

"Another blow job? How about _that_ for an incentive? That work for you?"

I grinned. "That works just fine, Babe."

Steph stretched out, wiggling her toes and stifling a yawn herself. "I just have this urge for a Quarter Pounder with cheese, and fries and a chocolate shake. In fact, super size the fries…."

I groaned, "Don't _tell_ me about it, I'm going to have to _look_ at you eating all those empty calories. That's bad enough."

"You having a salad, I assume?"

"Naturally."

"That's no fun. No dressing, right?"

"You gotta dress, Steph, if you're going out for Mickey D's…."

"Ha ha ha. Funny guy. You don't think they'd room service the McDonald's, huh?"

"Nope. Gotta get out of bed and go get it."

"Damn."

"You could always have your 29 candy bars instead. And bounce off the walls all night."

"I don't _have _29 candy bars, you smart ass."

"How many then?"

"8. Only _8_."

"That I take it is dessert?"

"That's my emergency stash, Superman. In case I can't get food from room service in the wee early hours of the morning, like _this _morning."

"Oh, excuse me. There is a method to your madness."

"I should've grabbed some cake to go. Stella wouldn't have minded. God, that was good cake. Absolutely _scrumptious_!"

I kept my opinion to myself as Steph waxed poetic about the wedding cake, and _especially _about the groom's cake. My Babe was definitely a cake lover, no doubt about that! How she managed to keep her amazing figure with those terrible eating habits of hers was a real mystery to me!

Sighing, I pushed myself out of bed and headed for the bathroom to dispose of the condom and get myself dressed. When I emerged, I was amused to see Steph hadn't moved so much as a muscle. "Sleeping Beauty? You plan on climbing out of bed anytime soon?"

"If I _have_ to," she murmured, "Of course you could be a real first class hero and offer to go get me my McDonald's while I catch up on my sleep??"

"That'll mean butt stuff, though," I warned her, laughing like hell at the look of horror on her very expressive face. "I'm _teasing_, Babe."

"You sure about that?"

"You want me to go get you your McDonald's, you're going to have to loan me your car. I don't have a rental."

She sat up, giving me a mouth-watering display of her breasts. "You'd really go, Carlos? I mean, because I asked you'd go to McDonald's for me? _Honestly_?"

"Sure, Babe." I tossed her purse at her, "Why not? Give me the keys, and I'll pick up whatever you want." Actually, it fit my plans perfectly: I'd learned Stephanie's legal name, and that meant I needed to contact Mateo and get that Will changed _fast_! Stephanie found her keys and tossed them to me, "Light blue Chevy Nova. 1997. RA3-4324, parked in space 407, take a left at the front door. You can't miss it, it's a real piece of shit."

"Babe," I groaned, "You couldn't happen to have a hot car instead of a POS?"

She grinned, "It runs, Superman. What else do you want? Here--here's the registration, in case you need it."

"I won't, but I'll take it just in case."

"I suppose you're just as skilled a driver as you are at everything else you do?"

"Yep," I agreed, winking, "Now remember, you promised me 2 blow jobs in return for my services."

"One."

"_Two_."

"You drive a hard bargain, Superman."

I nodded, "To have to go out and get McDonald's is bad enough; to have to do it in a POS car is beyond the pale. Two blow jobs is my minimum. You're getting off easy. If you weren't so sensitive, I'd have held firm with the butt stuff. But since I'm a good guy---"

"You are, at that. I promise, I'll make them both extra long and extra enjoyable," she promised. "Just feed me and I'll have the energy to do a great job for you. How about that?"

"Quarter Pounder with cheese. Super size fries and a chocolate shake."

"And an apple pie."

"Naturally. Anything else?"

"_A kiss_?"

I leaned down and gave her a long deep kiss that had both of us breathing heavy by the time it was done. "Don't fall too deeply asleep or I won't be able to get back in. I sure as hell don't want to have to eat your food because I can't get back in here to pawn it off on you---"

She pushed the key card into my hand, "Take this, then. I'm going to stay right here and get some sleep because this sex-crazed guy keeps jumping my bones…and I gotta get some sleep before he totally exhausts me."

"_Rrreally_?"

"Really."

"I could stop if you want me to."

"No you can't," she giggled, "You're just as horny as I am."

"Even more."

"Not possible."

"Says you."

"Where's my food?"

"I'm going, I'm going."

And I was. But first, I stopped at my room and changed my clothes so that I could drop my suit off to be pressed for tomorrow. I had only packed one suit--and upscale _Rosa's_ was not a place that was meant for casual dress. While in my room, I called Mateo at his home and told him about the change I needed to the Will. As expected, it was no big deal: all Mat needed to do was print one new page out on his printer and substitute it for the original page that had mentioned Stephanie Mazur. The page where my father and brother had signed as witnesses remained unchanged, thankfully. But what the hell was I going to do when I had to admit to them tomorrow that I had gotten her last name wrong? There _had_ to be a way around it!

On that note, I climbed into Steph's piece of shit car and motored off to McDonald's, which according to the desk clerk was only minutes away. By the time I'd gotten there, I'd worked out my little dilemma as expertly as a military maneuver.


	38. Chapter 38

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 38

By the time Carlos returned about an hour later, I'd climbed out of bed and thrown on a short satin robe from _Victoria's Secret _and a pair of killer 4-inch stilettos. I'd also used the time to visit the bathroom to freshen up my makeup, applying another coat of mascara, more lipstick and taming my wild curls with just a bit of mousse. Then I picked up the small bottle of baby oil I always packed (you'd be surprised at all of the uses it has) and an ear to ear grin split my face. Mmmmm….this could come in _very_ handy. I had a plan to let my man know just how grateful I was for his 'more than should be expected' behavior. Oh, yeah, I was going to make the man very happy….

But first I put my _other_ plan into effect: I sat down at the desk and pulled out some of the hotel's stationary. I'd had the idea ever since I had read the Ketubah that Stella and Patrick had composed for their wedding. _A love contract from me to Carlos. _Yes, that would be a perfect way to express my love for him, and my knowledge that time would only deepen my love even though we were apart. I hoped he would be able to tuck this one sheet of paper in his pocket and pull it out whenever he had any doubts that we were real and that I would be waiting, just counting the days until he was back in my arms again.

The words flowed easily from my heart, and I finished the 'contract' with plenty of time to hide it until I could find the perfect time to present it to him. Maybe over dinner? He'd mentioned taking me out tomorrow night for dinner and dancing. Romantic, yes. _Perfect! _But what would I put on? I ran to my closet, checking out what I had left to wear. Not much, unfortunately. I hung up my bridesmaid's dress, and bit my lip, thinking.

He'd promised a trip to _Victoria's Secret _tomorrow….that would mean a Mall visit. Which would guarantee a _Macy's_ nearby. I could find a dress there, for sure. Or maybe, just maybe, if the price of the dress was an extra special deal---on a Columbus Day sale, say--I could even handle _Nordstrom's_. Especially since I had some really killer shoes here, and wouldn't need to buy shoes if I picked the right dress. Which was…mmmmmmm…_what_, exactly? Sexy, obviously. But I was thinking dramatic, as well. Depended on the restaurant, but I could get more information on that from Carlos.

The sound of my phone distracted me from my musings, and I grabbed my purse and reluctantly pulled it out. _Damn! _My mother! Of all of the people I _didn't_ feel like talking to………

"Hello, Mom," I tried to infuse some happiness in my voice.

"Stephanie! Is the wedding over yet?" My mother sounded harried, and my stomach dropped. Oh no, she wasn't going to……

"The reception is just breaking up," I confirmed, checking my watch. "It was a lot of fun, Stella looked--"

"Never mind that," she interrupted me firmly, "I need you home asap."

Yep, that was _exactly_ what I'd feared she'd say. But it _wasn't_ going to happen. Nope, not even if blood was flowing on the kitchen floor and the EMTs were out in force on the Plum lawn. I wasn't missing my weekend with Carlos for anything or anyone. Time to start showing my mother exactly who I was now…and who I _wasn't_ anymore.

"Not happening, Mom." My voice was unapologetic, "What's the problem?"

"Your father and grandmother are fighting again and my poor nerves can't handle it anymore. I need you here to keep your grandmother away from your father before he kills her."

"Sorry, I won't be able to help, except by phone. I'm here until Monday morning, then I've got to go to work Monday afternoon. I can stop by Monday night for a bit---"

"That won't help me _at all_, Stephanie," she snapped, "By then my nerves will be shattered _permanently_. The wedding reception is over; you have nothing to stay in Newark for. Check out of the hotel now and you can be here in less than an hour."

"I said _no_, and I meant it, Mom," I held firm. "I'm not checking out tonight and coming over there. If you want me to talk to Daddy or Grandma, put them on the line."

"Can you hear that yelling?" I could. _Shit, it sounded bad, all right. _"That's your father and your grandmother--and it's been going on for almost 3 hours. 3 _hours_, Stephanie!"

"What started it?" It sounded worse than anything I'd heard before. "Or should I say, _who_ started it?" As if I didn't already know the answer.

"Your grandmother heard a noise in the bushes next door and thought it was a prowler. She got out your father's gun and---"

"Omigod! Grandma _shot _someone?"

"She shot _at_ someone! Fortunately, she didn't _hit _him. Turns out the Roznecki's are having their place appraised Monday--they're selling and retiring to Florida--and they'd hired a man to do some last-minute work on the gutters outside. Your grandmother missed him by a foot or so, but he took off on a dead run then called 911. The police showed up and it took some fast talking to get them to forget charging her. Joe Morelli's on the force now; he answered the call. You remember Joe? Such a sweet boy."

"Yeah, he's a real sweetheart, all right, Mom. Good old Joe Morelli." I remembered him all too well: fingering me in the garage at age 6, taking my virginity at age 16 behind the éclair case of the Tasty Pastry, and writing about it on the wall of Mario's Sub Shop before he joined the Navy. Some sweetheart! "Too bad Grandma didn't use the gun on _him_!"

"He gave your grandmother a stern warning, and talked to your father," my mother rambled on, oblivious to my bloodthirsty mutterings. "But your father's been on the warpath ever since the police left, and my poor nerves can't handle it anymore."

"Well, Mom, I'm really sorry things are going bad there, but there's really not much I can do to help out."

"You can come home---"

"And do _what_, exactly, Mom? Handcuff Grandma to me and drag her out of the room every time Daddy enters? Take her out for a few beers and a pizza? Or maybe drive her somewhere for shooting lessons so she doesn't miss the next time?"

"That's no tone of voice to take with your mother, young lady."

"Mom, I'm enjoying a weekend here that I've been looking forward to for months. _Months. _I've got plans--and I'm not canceling them for anything."

"Not even for your father or your grandmother? Or even, God forbid, because just once---_once_--your mother asks you to help her? I don't expect much from you, Stephanie, but this…this I absolutely _must _have!"

I took a deep breath and ignored that last dig. "Daddy and Grandma don't _need_ my help, they are _adults_. They can be reasoned with. Just go put one on the phone and I'll talk to them while you talk to the other."

"I need you _home_! Nola Weizenblatt's daughter would come home if her mother asked her to!"

"That's because Selma Weizenblatt is an _idiot_. Her mother walks all over her! Selma caves because her mother throws a monster-size guilt trip on her and Selma never learns. Like Charlie Brown and the football, she falls for the same shit every time."

"I am _not_ putting a guilt trip on you," my mother said, doing just that. "If you don't care that I have a pounding headache that could very well be my blood pressure spiking to a stroke, then there's obviously nothing I can say or do to change your mind."

"You don't _have_ blood pressure problems, Mom. You never did. But just in case you've suddenly developed them in the last hour or so, you can always borrow Grandma's monitor and check your pressure. Then if you really _do_ have a problem, you can have Daddy drive you to the hospital. It'll split him and Grandma up, and the fighting will stop for the evening. Maybe you could go _that_ route."

"I don't like your attitude, Stephanie Michelle."

"You don't _have_ to like it, Mom. I'm _not _coming home. End of discussion. The offer to talk to Daddy or Grandma stands, but only in the next 5 minutes--"

"He's your _father_ and she's your g_randmother_. How can you not help when they need you here?"

"They _don't _need me there, Mom! And besides--he's _your_ husband and she's _your _mother. You've known them longer than I have, and you live with them 24/7, so you know how they get. This isn't their first fight, this won't be their last. If you're _really_ that sick of listening to them, then just get in your car and take yourself out to dinner and a movie. By the time you come back, they'll be fine."

"They'll have killed each other."

"Well, then your big problem will be solved, won't it? No more fighting to get on your poor stressed-out nerves."

"God knows your dear sister Valerie would _never_ behave like this to her mother."

"_Fine_, Mom. You're right. She wouldn't--she's perfect. So, hey, you know what? Call _her_ right now, and you can commiserate with Valerie on what a bad daughter I am and how much of a disappointment I am to you. It won't be the first time you've done _that_, either." I knew _that_ for a fact, too.

"I baked a pineapple upside down cake for dessert--"

"Sorry, I'm stuffed with wedding cake. But thanks for the thought, Mom."

My mother hung up on me, and I smiled at satisfaction. I hadn't cracked! I pumped my fist in Victory! _Go, me!!_

"Proud of you, Babe."

I spun around to see Carlos leaning against the door jam, amused. He was holding his duffle bag in one hand and a big McDonald's bag in the other. He'd changed his clothes since the last time I'd seen him, and now sported well-worn blue jeans that fit like a glove and a black T-shirt that almost looked painted on. A black leather jacket and black boots completed the picture. Damn, the man looked _sexy_!

"I didn't hear you come in," I confessed, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Since you told your Mom that you weren't coming home no matter who your Granny shot. Who _was _the poor bastard, by the way?"

"She missed him, luckily. She heard someone moving around outside next door and decided to shoot at who she thought was a prowler. It turned out to be the neighbor's handy man instead. But fortunately the cops aren't pressing charges against her."

"Why not? That should get her hauled downtown, for sure."

"Good old St. Joe Morelli is on the police force. My mother's new hero. He decided to let Grandma off with a stern warning--which we all know she'll ignore."

"_Joe Morelli_? Where do I know that name…?"

"He was the first guy I slept with. Remember? I told you."

Something moved over Carlos' face, just for an instant. "The damned Bakery Poet?"

"The very same. My mother has forgiven and forgotten, clearly. '_He's such a sweet boy_.' She's elevated him to Saint status for this, from the sound of it."

"Someone I need to worry about, Babe?"

"No chance in hell, Superman. Anyway, long story short, my Dad and my Grandma have been fighting ever since--it was _his_ gun she pulled, after all--and my Mom ordered me home to mediate the latest family crisis. I said no, being a selfish bitch."

"Forget _selfish_. And you're _not _a bitch. You didn't cave in, Babe. You stayed strong. You weren't tempted even a little bit?"

I grinned, "To leave you and go listen to them screaming back and forth at each other? You think I'm _crazy_? Nope, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Carlos. I'm not giving up this weekend for anything or anyone. I'm not taking her calls anymore tonight: I turned off the phone. And I'm not the least bit tempted to swing by Trenton and check to see that everyone's still standing by the end of the night."

He smiled then, and I swear I damned near orgasmed, he was so damned sexy!

"Then it's a good thing I brought you something to keep you happy for the next ½ hour or so." He handed me the McDonald's bag, and began to unpack his duffle bag. "I figured I'd be spending the night, so I packed a few things---"

I grinned, "Good, because I missed you while you were gone. I was actually having second thoughts about letting you out of my sight. Thinking I should have gone with you…and then we could have stopped to do it in the back seat on the way to McDonald's."

"Not that I'm turning down that option in future, Babe, but that car of yours is a real piece of shit. I was very lucky to get it started at all."

"Damned battery, no doubt. I'm going to have to replace it soon."

"I rented a car for tomorrow. Just in case your car won't start."

"_Riiight. _Sure you did.More likely, you rented it because you didn't want to be seen in public in my POS any more." I nibbled a few fries and caught his quick smile of agreement. "What kind of car did you get?"

"A surprise," he winked, "But that brings up my next question. What do you want to do tomorrow? What is your perfect day?"

"Sleeping late, for starters."

"Nah! You'll waste half the day that way, Steph!"

"Making love over and over _then_ sleeping."

"Like I said, _very good way to start the day_, Babe."

"I thought you'd agree," I giggled, "We have lots more condoms to make use of, after all. And I have a surprise for you that you're gonna _love_."

"I'm sure I will," he leaned in for a long kiss, "Mmmmmmm, you taste like ketchup."

"That's because these are absolutely _delicious_," I munched happily on my fries, and beamed lovingly at Carlos who was by now crunching away on his garden salad. "Thank you again, Superman!"

"De nada, Babe," he grinned, clearly enjoying the sight of me lying almost naked on the bed while I stuffed myself with my cheeseburger and fries. "That's just what you felt like?"

"_Oh yeah! _They're yummy beyond words. Much better than room service, for sure!" I sighed, licking the ketchup from my fingers, "I'm going to make you a _very _happy man for doing this for me. Not just once but _twice over_."

"That sounds promising," he said, with a huge wolf grin. "I'm going to be making those same happy sounds you are right now in no time at all, huh?"

"You _definitely _are! And thanks for the extra apple pie," I indicated the second dessert which he'd surprised me with, "I'm gonna save it for later tonight."

"So you don't need to O.D. on candy bars," he winked. "Which you will anyway, but still, I _tried_…"

"You did, at that," I nodded, finishing off my cheeseburger with a happy moan, "Didn't work. Won't _ever_ work. Me and chocolate….mmmm, mmmm: _perfect together_."

"I thought that was you and me, Babe."

"That too. We _are_ perfect together--we always will be."

"Yeah, Babe, we will. So? Answer the question. Got any ideas how you want to spend tomorrow? I'm wide open to suggestions."

"Honestly? All I want is to be with you, making love and then having dinner somewhere really romantic. With lots of slow dancing. And delicious dessert."

"There's this great Cuban restaurant I know…" he hesitated, "Unless you prefer something else?" He stopped, sounding uncharacteristically unsure of himself.

"I've never tried Cuban food, but I'd _love_ to," I assured him, "Especially some of those fried stuffed potato thingies you told me about before. What did you call them?"

"_Papas Rellenas_," he replied, finishing his salad and helping himself to the last of my fries. "You'll love them. Guaranteed."

"And this place--it has dancing too, you said?"

"It's a really good restaurant, fine dining and then dancing to Latin music. Very romantic, Babe. That's why I thought of taking you there."

"Sounds perfect. Now…what kind of desserts are we talking about, Carlos?"

"Well, I love the flan, which is basically a custard. They have a few varieties of that. And they make their own ice cream, which is delicious. But you might like the Bacardi rum cake, which is one of their specialties. It's a very rich yellow cake with pecans and glazed with a truly decadent butter, sugar and rum mix."

"I like the sound of that," I licked my lips, "What else do they have?"

"Mojito cake," he smiled, "Which is angel food cake, mixed with pineapple and some lime juice. Iced with creamed cheese, rum extract, whipped cream and limeade, and then sprinkled with coconut and lime zest."

"_That's_ what I want," I decided, "Closest thing I can get to the pineapple upside down cake I was bribed with tonight. The cake I'll never get to taste again, since my mother will never let me forget standing her up in her hour of need."

"Poor Babe," Carlos gave me a long kiss and a soft cuddle, "What can I do to make you feel better?"

I smiled, "That's my line to you. You got me my McDonald's…now _I'm _planning to make _you _very happy."

"Just looking at you makes me happy, Babe. Happier than I've ever been in my life."

"Back at ya, Superman. But I'm planning on taking that happiness to all new heights tonight." I stood up and shimmied to the desk, where I picked up the small bottle of baby oil. I loosened the belt of my robe, giving Carlos a clear view of my naked body, "Now…how would you like the best massage of your life?"

"Oh boy," Carlos grinned, shucking his clothes as quickly as I'd ever seen. "Now _that's_ what I'm talkin' about!"

"I take it that's a _yes_?" I allowed my eyes to wander slowly over his naked body, and damned near licked my lips in lust. Carlos has the best body in the world, bar none. God, the man was a Cuban Sex God--and I had him all to myself for the whole weekend!

"That's a _definite_ yes." He lay back on the bed, his arms folded under his head, his grin downright devilish. "How do you want me? You're calling the shots, Babe!"

"Roll over, then," I decided, trying not to drool, "I'm going to start with your shoulders and work my way down your back…then I'm gonna have some fun with that tight hot ass of yours."

Carlos moaned happily, rolling over as ordered and using his forearms to support his chin, "You can have all the fun you want with me, Babe. I'm not saying no to a damned thing."

"I'll keep that in mind," I tossed my robe down on the floor where his eyes could see it, and I straddled him, letting my pussy tease his waist with its dampness.

"I like that you're keeping your shoes on," he approved, his voice low and husky. "And I love that you're already wet for me. That means we're going to have a whole hell of a lot of fun very soon."

"Not _too_ soon. First I have to work out the stress right _here_…and _here_…not to mention _here_." I slid my fingers over his muscles lightly, then reached over to grab the bottle of baby oil. I poured out a pool of it and warmed it in my hands before letting it drizzle slowly onto his shoulders and his back. His low rumble of pleasure sounded as I began to use my hands to massage his powerful muscles, leaning down to drop soft little kisses on his neck and his earlobe. I murmured some really dirty suggestions in his ear and was rewarded with a husky "_oh fuck, yes_" as I really got down to business and gave him a slow almost-professional massage.

My fingers slid over his naked body, and I enjoyed the feel of him and the sight of him just as much as he enjoyed my hands stroking him. I of course had to give a few wiggles and grinds to tease him, reminding him of what was in store for him later in the massage. He didn't seem to mind…

"You have the most perfect ass," I decided, climbing off him and taking one tight hot butt cheek in each hand. I cupped them in my hand then began massaging each, running my thumb in slow lazy circles as he groaned happily and surrendered his body completely to my ministrations. I grinned, then gave each butt cheek a saucy slap as I moved down to his muscular thighs, "You must live in the gym to have a body this fabulous."

"Not quite, but sometimes it feels that way," he admitted, pushing himself up on his forearms. "I need some…_stress relief_, Babe. Right now. An emergency, you could say."

"You _do_, do you? Urgently, huh?" I grinned smugly. His voice had lowered a full octave; he was clearly more than ready for the next phase of my seduction.

"Badly, Babe."

"Well, in that case you'd better roll over right now," I ran my thumbs up the length of his spine, loving the feel of him. "I think I'm going to have to adjust the order of my massage to help you with your…_problem_. Normally I'd start with your shoulders--"

"My shoulders aren't what needs relief right about now," he confessed, rolling over and showing me the most enormously rock-hard cock on earth. Holy Moly, Mother of God was he _huge_!!

"Oh yeah, I see exactly what your…_problem_ is."

"_Babe_."

I licked my lips slowly, teasing him as his eyes darkened almost to solid black. "Hands behind your head, Mr. Manoso. I'm giving you a professional service here, you know."

"You _are_, huh?"

"_Very_ professional. And I'm not the kind of woman who allows her clients to take liberties with her."

"That doesn't sound good, Babe. Because, I gotta tell you, I've been dreaming about taking a lot of those liberties for the last few minutes."

I leaned in, my lips oh-so-close to his, "Well, _undream_ them: I don't let my clients touch me while I'm doing my work on them. So put your hands behind your head and keep them there." He complied, and our eyes locked together as I licked my lips again. "Just relax and enjoy…"

"I'll enjoy…but relaxing isn't in the cards, Babe."

"We'll see." I leaned in and dropped a soft slow wet kiss on his throat, then began to nibble my way down to his chest, stopping for a few minutes to tease his nipples with my tongue and my teeth. I heard him inhale sharply as I lowered my head to his groin, and in seconds I had my tongue running up and down his cock. I swirled my tongue over the length of him, flicking the head of his cock with my tongue before taking him in my hands and caressing him slowly. "Mmmmm. You're going to be my most challenging client, I see."

"I doubt that," he grinned, "I'm ready to cum right now just looking at you."

"Oh, you're not going to come just yet, Mr. Manoso," I corrected him, "I'm going to play with you awhile before I finally suck you off."

"_Really_?" His voice was getting increasingly huskier.

"For sure. Feel how…_hard_…you are. I'll have to work at relaxing you before you come fast and ruin all our fun."

"Babe."

"That's _Miss Plum _to you, Mr. Manoso. I told you, I don't allow my clients liberties. That includes familiarity with my name. The rules are that you call me _Miss Plum_."

"How the hell can I call you _Miss Plum _when you have your hands and your tongue all over my cock?" he complained. "_Fuck the rules_, Babe. Hell--fuck _me_!" He moved his hand, vainly trying to reach for the box of condoms on the nightstand.

I batted the box back onto the table, and grabbed his wrist. "You follow _my _rules, Mr. Manoso. Or my hands and my tongue stay far away from your…utterly scrumptious looking oh-so-delectable cock."

"Damn, Ba---_Miss Plum_! You're driving me _insane _here."

"Because you aren't _cooperating_ with me. Now, put your hand back where it belongs." He did. I lowered my face down to his, then suddenly veered to the side to drop a soft kiss onto the base of his throat. "No fucking yet, Mr. Manoso. First I'm going to use my tongue and my hands on you until you about lose your mind. Then I'm going to deep-throat you and drain every last drop of cum from your magnificent cock. And finally, once you're relaxed, we'll continue our massage. How does _that _sound?"

"Christ, I'm going to cum from just thinking about it."

"I told you: no cumming before I allow it! First my tongue and I get to play with you a bit. Like _this_……" I licked down his muscular chest again, diving into his belly button as he groaned in pleasure, then reached his stiff cock. In less than a minute, I resumed my tongue's ministrations on him, holding his thick hard length with both hands as my tongue licked him like an ice cream cone on a July afternoon. His moans of appreciation grew louder, and I could feel the dampness pooling between my legs. God, I wanted him! But not just yet…we had time!

"MMMmmmmm," I sighed, "You taste so good! I need _more_!" I lowered my mouth onto him, taking as much of him into my mouth as I could. Forcing myself to relax my throat, I adjusted my mouth until I slid down, taking even more of him in my mouth. By this time he'd switched into Spanish, and the sound of his low raspy voice got me even more excited than I already was from the taste of him.

I let myself go completely, unleashing my lust upon my all-too-willing captive and riding him with my mouth, while stroking him with my hands. I couldn't get over how damned enormous he was….forget 11 inches, I'd clearly miscalculated. This was the kind of cock women would write sonnets about…or at the very least, the kind that would make women cum just _looking_ at him. And this man was all mine! _Woo Hoo, Stephie, girl: you done goooood!_

Clearly, Carlos agreed with me: his body was straining, his rock hard abs now on clear display as he forced himself to lie back while I sucked his cock greedily. His hands clutched his pillow, his head rolling from side to side as his breathing grew shallow and his voice almost sobbed out his ecstasy. I had made my man very happy, as promised; but I was determined to make him even more so by the time I was through with him!

I cupped his balls with one hand, letting the other hand continue its work on his cock. My mouth continued to stroke him, and I could tell by his loud cries that before long he was going to explode in my mouth. Now sounded like the perfect time for that to happen…

With one last powerful suck, I drove him over the edge. He about bucked off the bed as he released his cum into my hungry mouth with a loud cry and near-unintelligible Spanish. I was ready for him, and began to swallow greedily as he emptied himself inside me. I sucked every last drop of his cum, then used my tongue to lick him clean. Damn, but he tasted utterly delicious!

As I finished up, I licked my lips and then straddled his waist, winning a smile that had my doodah doing the happy dance. "Now that we've got you relaxed down there, we can work on your upper body muscles."

"Mmmmm." He sighed happily, surrendering himself to my hands as I began to use them to relax his shoulders. "God, this is Heaven. Absolute Heaven, Babe."

"That's Miss Plum to you," I teased.

"Miss Plum," he whispered, "I'm going to make you scream when I finally do fuck you. You know that."

"I know it all too well, Mr. Manoso. But that time isn't going to be for quite some time. I have lots of plans for that delicious naked body of yours. And a massage is only the beginning."

"Dios. Cuando usted es terminado conmigo, voy a ser completamente fuera de mi mente."

"Which means?"

"By the time you're finished with me, I'm going to be completely out of my mind."

I grinned wickedly, "That's very perceptive of you, Mr. Manoso. But you're going to be a very very happy man, even though you'll be insane. Because I'm working up an appetite for you that puts last night's fucking marathon of ours to shame."

"That's not possible, Ba--Miss Plum. Last night was out of this world."

"It was, for sure. But you see…I know your body even better now, Mr. Manoso. What you like. What you _love. _Like _this_."

I lowered my mouth and began to suck his nipples greedily, each in turn, then nipped them with my teeth. Then I leaned over and moved my breasts in front of Carlos' face. "Suck them!" I commanded.

He didn't waste a second, taking my breasts into his mouth one after the other, while keeping his hands clutched on the pillow. I moaned happily, grinding my dripping wet pussy over his now-hardening-again cock as his mouth made me a very happy woman.

"Enough!" I pulled away slowly, my eyes locked to his glittering black orbs. "Tell me what you want!"

"What do I want? I want to suck your pussy, Miss Plum. I want to taste how delectable you are. I want to make you cum so loud that they can hear you screaming in the lobby."

My eyes widened in delighted surprise. "Why, Mr. Manoso! You've shocked me." I hadn't expected it, but damned if I didn't love the idea!

He grinned wickedly, "I won't move my hands. You just need to climb up a bit and let me--"

I couldn't move fast enough to get my pussy over his mouth, and I heard him laughing softly. I held onto the headboard and began to move as his tongue flicked against my pussy lips. Damn, just the mere touch of his hot breath on me had me so ready to cum I had to have a stern little talk with myself! _Play first, Steph. Tease him…_

Well, long story short, my brain and my body weren't very well connected right about then. I wasn't in any hurry to play right about now; instead, I wanted him to suck and suck hard and long. So I started moving my pelvis in slow circles and enjoying the feel of his long talented tongue as it flicked over my pussy's lips, doing things that made me whimper in utter delight.

Before long I couldn't stand moving my body even a millimeter: he'd found my clit with his tongue and I was so damned close to cumming that I was clutching the headboard and giving him some very definite verbal encouragement. Actually, I think I was begging him to make me cum, but that qualifies as verbal encouragement, right? He was certainly taking his sweet time with me, using his tongue slowly and teasing me until I was crying in frustration. I needed to cum. I _needed _it!!!

"Please, Carlos!"

"No _Mr. Manoso_? What about not taking liberties with you?"

"But, Carlos, I _need_ it……" I was openly whining and didn't much care how pathetic I sounded so long as I got satisfaction.

"Okay, Babe," he whispered, taking his hands from the pillow and wrapping them around my waist as he moved his mouth into position. In seconds, his hungry mouth had latched onto my clit and he bit down softly, sending a wave of dizzy pleasure skittering throughout my body. My legs buckled under me, and I held onto the headboard for dear life as he began to suck my clit in earnest. I came over and over and not quietly, either!

By the time I'd exploded for what was at least--_at least_--my sixth orgasm, Carlos had flipped me onto my back and clothed himself in a condom. He pulled me into position, tossing my legs over his shoulders and pushing himself into my now-dripping pussy. I climaxed almost immediately, my arms wrapped around his shoulders and my nails digging into him, pulling him even deeper as I began climbing to the next height and realizing I was going to explode again almost immediately.

He knew my body as well as I knew his; by this time I was crying in pleasure and he was whispering soft Spanish endearments to me as his fingers wiped away my tears. And dear Lord, he was moving that pelvis of his faster than I thought humanly possible! I came over and over, and by the time he joined me, I'd been reduced to a boneless quivering mass of Jell-O. Did I say the man was magnificent in bed? Forget it: he was over the moon beyond belief magnificent. And I was sure I was never going to be able to cross my legs again. I was destined to walk crooked for the rest of my life…

"You okay, Babe?" he asked softly, after a few minutes of silence during which we both needed to work on catching our breath.

"Omigod."

"Yeah, me too."

"I never wanted you more, Carlos."

"Back at you, Babe."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

I felt the tears flowing suddenly, my emotions on total overload. How the hell was I going to survive 18 months without Carlos? He was everything to me. _Everything. _And God forbid, if anything happened to him, it would destroy me.

"Babe, I'll be fine. I promise: I'm coming back to you, no matter what it takes. I give you my word, Steph. Don't cry, Babe. Please don't cry!" He pulled me into his arms and began soothing me, his strong arms holding me against him as he kissed my forehead.

"I'm such a wuss," I apologized, blinking to try to control my tears, "I want to be strong for you, Carlos. I do. I'm sorry. I'm making it worse."

"You're allowed to be scared, Steph. Even when you're Wonder Woman. You're allowed to cry. You're allowed to worry. You're only human, Babe. It's gonna be rough on you; I wish it weren't true, but it is. I wish I didn't have to go, but that's my job."

"I love you so much it physically hurts," I sniffed, my tears slowing now as he slid his hands up and down my arms. "I never in my whole life imagined feeling anything this deep. It's so scary, Carlos. You have to promise me you'll come back. Because I need to hear the words. Look at me and tell me and I swear to God, I'll believe you and I'll never worry about it again."

"Look at me, Stephanie: I _am _going to make it through this just fine. I'm coming back to you. I _promise_ you. No matter how hard it is, how long it takes, how bad things get. I love you so much that I couldn't _not _come back to you. Got that? I need you, more than I've ever needed anyone or anything. I need _you_, Stephanie Michelle Plum. You are my woman, you're my soul mate…and I swear to God, one day you're going to be my wife. So you don't have to worry. I'm damned well coming home to you. You got that?"

"I got that," I smiled, tasting the tears upon my lips. "And I needed to hear it because…because I'm a complete basket case right about now. My mascara's all over my face isn't it? You can tell me the truth: I look like a raccoon, don't I?"

He laughed, "You look hot as hell, you always do. And you look like you don't have the energy to make it to the bathroom to take your makeup off, even if it had run. Which, fortunately for you, it _didn't_."

"Promise?"

"Promise. Either that, or I have a really sick thing for hot-looking raccoons……"

I met his eyes and we shared a laugh, as I felt myself relaxing into his arms. I sniffled a bit more, and we lay wrapped in each other's arms, each of us memorizing the feel of each other. Preparing for the long cold nights to come……


	39. Chapter 39

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 39

By the time I woke up the next morning, I'd lost count of how many times Carlos and I had made love. I just knew I was a _very_ satisfied woman, and hoped to hell I could still move when I finally could bring myself to crawl out of bed! I found myself wrapped completely in his arms, spooned against his muscular chest….with a particularly hard object poking me in the crack of my ass. Oh, boy! Morning wood!

I squinted at the nightstand to see if I could tell what time it was, then decided it didn't really matter to me one way or the other since: (1) I had nothing planned to do but make love and sleep late; (2) Carlos was well on the way to helping me out with (1); and (3) did I mention I was still horny? So I gave a happy little whimper and snuggled back against Carlos, who was just beginning to wake up right about then.

"Do that again and we're going to have a real problem," he whispered, kissing my neck softly.

"What kind of a problem is that?" I teased.

"The kind that requires a condom immediately, with no foreplay."

"Do we even have any condoms left?"

"_Damn! _I sure as hell hope so. I don't want to consider the alternative."

"Go check, right now! Then put one on fast and let's just skip the foreplay and get to the best part, shall we?"

His laugh was quiet and I felt him pull away for just a second as he grabbed the box of condoms and pulled one out. "Hallelujah! Three left."

"We should've gotten a carton of them," I giggled, rolling over on my back to watch Carlos sheath himself quickly. My eyes sparkled as he pulled me to him and began running his mouth down my throat, not very slowly making his way to my breasts. My nipples stood at attention and proudly saluted as his hot tongue flicked over each one in turn before he spread my legs and arranged me in a most unladylike position.

"How do you want it this time?" he growled.

"Fast and hard and deep," I demanded, enjoying the feel of his cock pushing against my still-tender pussy lips. "What the hell--I can't close my legs after last night. I might as well go all the way, right? Who needs to stand upright and walk, anyway? It's highly over-rated!"

"I didn't do _that _much damage to that gorgeous little body of yours, did I?" he whispered, sliding inside me with a low groan. "Fuck, Babe, you feel sooooooooo good!"

"You feel even better than that," I assured him, wrapping my legs around his waist tightly and welcoming him inside me, "Now don't talk, Superman. Just fuck me. Make me scream."

His wolf grin promised what I knew he could easily deliver, and he began to ride me with the kind of passion that I'd learned to expect from him. Had to be that Latin temperament, or whatever….because no one had _ever _come close to making me that insane with just a few strokes. I threw back my head, exposing my throat to his hungry mouth, and met every hard powerful thrust of his with one of my own. It was magic and we both knew it.

"You like that, Babe?" His raspy voice sounded in my ear, and I gave a low whimper. Oh, yeah, I liked that a whole hell of a lot! "You want more?" I sure as hell did, and told him so, in no uncertain terms. He upped the pace, and I could hear his balls smacking into me as he rode me like we were in the last lap of the Kentucky Derby.

My first orgasm came seconds later, and the second followed almost immediately afterwards. By this time I was wailing in open pleasure and not even trying to hide my delight at his ever-quickening pace. At this rate, I knew I'd be over the moon again in another minute or two, and I dug my heels into his back and began matching him thrust for thrust as he climbed the summit and prepared to dive with me into free-fall.

When we finally climaxed together, I screamed so loud that I'm sure everyone in the hotel must have heard me. I didn't much give a shit, either: Carlos had turned me into a raging nymphomaniac and I didn't care who knew it.

Our mouths fused in one last deep kiss before he reluctantly pulled out of me and rolled onto his back with a satisfied grunt. "Do you realize we've almost gone through 2 boxes of condoms in record time?"

"And two more condoms left to go until we need to replenish," I grinned happily. "We can do it in the shower and then again on the elevator on our way to the drug store."

"Babe!" Carlos looked at me in awe, "You're willing to do elevator sex in _daytime_?"

"You'd be shocked at what I'm prepared to do and where I'm prepared to do it," I advised him with a saucy wink. "I'm empowered now. I'm a card carrying nymphomaniac who has an appetite for her sexy hot man and needs it satisfied regularly. In fact, I think we'd better go downstairs and re-stock before we call in our room service order, because I'd rather have _you_ for breakfast than some French toast. I want me some Cuban beef…..yummy." I rolled over on my side, licking my lips lasciviously and running my hands down his muscular body.

Carlos grinned wickedly, reluctantly pulling out of my arms to walk--albeit very unsteadily--to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. "Do you have any idea how wanton you look right this very second, Steph? How totally irresistible?"

I smirked, then adjusted my position so that I made a low-class streetwalker look like a lady. "You like wanton, huh? How about _this_? You like this?"

His eyes darkened to black and I knew the answer immediately. He licked his lips and smiled a slow devilish smile as he walked to the end of the bed and let his eyes roam over every inch of me. "If you're trying to tease the Beast, Babe, keep it up. You're doing a splendid job."

"I'm trying to get fucked again," I said boldly. "This time I want foreplay. Lots of it."

"What kind of foreplay are we talking here?" His brow lifted interestedly.

"I was kind of hoping I could persuade you to use your not-insubstantial oral skills on me." I lifted my leg over my head and held it there with one arm. "I'd be _very _appreciative."

His smile deepened, "How appreciative are we talking, _exactly_?" He lowered himself onto the bed, rolling over on his side as his fingers began to stroke between my legs, causing me to shiver in delight.

"I'd do…._anything_….you want," I negotiated.

"_Anything_? Or anything within reason?" he said carefully.

I pretended to consider the matter solemnly. "I guess that all depends on just how carried away you got me. If I were really making a lot of noise, say….thrashing about on the bed and screaming like a banshee….I guess I wouldn't mind if you had to _subdue_ me."

His voice had lowered two octaves in seconds. "How subdued are we talking here?"

"_Exactly_?" I teased, my breath coming in soft pants as Carlos lowered his mouth to demonstrate some of those remarkable oral skills of his. "Ummmm. Say, I could be persuaded to allow some very lucky man to roll this Intergalactic Princess on her belly and arrange her in the kind of position that she normally doesn't permit."

"_Oh fuck_," Carlos' eyes had glazed over, and he added his fingers to the quite remarkable assault his lips were making against my pussy. "Then what?"

"I suppose you'd be more than justified in quieting my screams with a few slaps to my oh-so-tender ass."

"Wouldn't that make you scream even louder, though?" He was expertly teasing my clit and I felt the zippaddy all down my doodah.

"Probably," I agreed, "So then of course you'd have to use your cock to quiet my screaming. Grab my hair and use my mouth to relieve your basest male urges."

"And then what?" His fingers were stroking my pussy lips, as I moaned happily and allowed him to continue his ministrations as I clasped my leg tighter to my upper body and wiggled in pleasure as his fingers stroked in and out, bringing me a steady stream of pleasurable feelings. "What would you let me do then?"

"MMMmmmmmm," I considered, my eyes half mast at the sheer delight of his continuing conquest of me. I'd come perilously close to orgasm twice, but Carlos had slowed his stroking in order to keep me on the precipice a bit longer. We were, after all, still in negotiations…and he drove a hard bargain. Among _other_ hard things. "Well, after you'd used my mouth to fuck your cock, I suppose you'd be ready to play some more."

"That's for damned sure," he agreed, "Now the question is: how much do I get to play, Princess?"

"Well, you'd be my _captor_ technically….so I guess I'd pretty much be at your mercy."

"I don't have any mercy where hot sexy Intergalactic Princesses are concerned. Particularly if they're my captives. I'm the Dark Insatiable Lord, remember?"

"I sooooo remember. Right _there_, Dark Insatiable Lord," I begged, feeling the first stirrings of an orgasm I just couldn't bear to give up. "Please??"

"Touch yourself, Princess. Bring yourself over the top while I watch."

I blinked in surprise, then quickly acceded to his wishes. Okay, that was the way he wanted to play it, huh? He wasn't giving me an orgasm just yet, but he was going to get off on watching me satisfy myself! Determined to give him a really XXXX rated show, I licked my fingers and moved them between my legs. In seconds I was riding my fingers and having a hell of a good time doing it.

"Feels good, huh, Princess?"

"Not as good as it _could_…."

He nodded, "But we're still discussing what you're willing to do to make _me _happy. In exchange for making _you_ happy."

"I told you: _anything you want_."

"Butt stuff?"

I swallowed, "If that's what you want. Yes."

"You'd do that for me?"

"Yes, if you want me to."

"Tying you up?"

Again I swallowed, trying to push the panic out of my voice. What the hell had made me think I could play with this bad boy? "Yes. Anything you want, Lord Carlos. I'm your prisoner."

"That you are, Princess. My little play toy," he smiled, pulling my hand over and taking my fingers deeply into his mouth. He sucked my juices greedily, and then fell on me hungrily, his mouth devouring my pussy ravenously. I felt him push my other leg up, and I clasped it firmly to my upper body as he devoted himself to sucking my pussy with a ferocity that amazed and delighted me.

My moans grew louder and more urgent as the powerful orgasm began to overtake me. Carlos loves to suck pussy, and he's an expert at winning the kind of response that most men can't even get with their cocks. In minutes I was convulsed in tremors and my body was bucking off the bed like a rag doll in a windstorm. I lost count of how many orgasms I had, but they were all world-class. Dear God in Heaven, I was losing my mind from the pleasure this man's lips and tongue were giving me!

He let me catch my breath back for all of a moment, then re-doubled his assault on my dripping hot pussy. His fingers slid deeply into me and found my g-spot without a moment's hesitation. While he stroked me with powerful thrusts of all three fingers, his mouth fastened onto my sensitive clit and he sucked me into yet another powerful climax. I was indeed wailing like a banshee at this point, and after a final nerve-shatteringly explosive orgasm, I was roughly pulled to my knees and forced to take his rock-hard cock into my mouth. He fisted his hands in my curly hair and used me mercilessly to satisfy his feverish lust.

I was so swept up in passion that I found my inner slut even more than I had done the night before, and I gave him every bit as good as I got…and then some! I couldn't get enough of him, and it was only when he exploded noisily inside me that I allowed myself to suck him dry rather than totally devour him, as I had been doing. By that time, Carlos was panting heavily and had switched to unintelligible Spanish again. The man, trust me, was a _very _satisfied Dark Lord.

I was pretty damned satisfied myself: I was rolled onto my belly then and he positioned me on my hands and knees, where he then lay between my legs and began again to suck me off. I rested on my forearms and threw back my head and just _howled_. I was cumming so frequently I thought for sure the power of it would cause me to pass out, but Carlos' enthusiasm was showing no signs of stopping anytime soon. His hands were locked around my thighs, holding me open as his mouth sucked me rapaciously. Finally, when I could stand no more, I begged for his cock inside of me, and he bit down on my clit and sent me screaming into yet another orgasm before he finally pulled out from under me and readied the next part of my deliciously welcomed torture.

"Tell me what you want, Princess!"

"I want your cock inside me! I want you to fuck me, Dark Lord Carlos!"

"Louder! Beg for me, scream for me, my beautiful blue-eyed captive."

I did, with a vigor that surprised both Carlos and me. I was totally and completely under his spell--and believe me, the whole damned hotel _had _to have heard me screaming by this point! Not that I cared, even a bit. I was an addict, and he was my drug of choice. If I'd stopped to consider that all my friends were staying just a few doors away, I'd have been mortified. But I probably would have kept screaming, regardless. I needed him that badly…..

Seconds later, he'd clothed himself in a condom and impaled himself in my throbbing hot pussy. He slammed mercilessly into me, his cries every bit as fevered as my own. I'd agreed to allow him to do anything to me, but to my delight and surprise, he hadn't taken advantage of my offer. He remembered how I'd hated to be tied up, and he knew that I wasn't happy about anal sex….and so he'd just tested the limits to see how willing I was to give up my comfort to make him happy. He hadn't taken advantage, and the knowledge made me only love him…and trust him…more.

By this time he'd exploded inside me, and we'd finally collapsed on the bed in exhaustion. I hadn't even bothered to roll over, and he'd barely managed to pull out of me. We lay motionless for long moments before we dropped into a deep sleep.

When we awoke some time later, Carlos staggered to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and I'd managed to limply roll onto my back. I was sticky and still too utterly spent to move more than that.

He leaned against the bathroom door, and his voice sounded husky. "You've come a long way, Steph. I never would have imagined that you'd--"

I bit my lip and felt myself--unbelievably--blushing. "You bring out the animal in me, Carlos. I can't believe I let go like that. We're just lucky they didn't toss us out of the hotel for all the noise we were making."

He grinned in smug satisfaction, "They probably heard us all the way down to the lobby, Querida. You were very vocal in your pleasure."

"You were pretty damned noisy yourself, Dark Lord Carlos the Insatiable."

"With a willing partner so deliciously beautiful and so passionate, how could I be otherwise?"

"How can it get better every time?"

"Because we're two halves of a whole."

"I'm going to miss you so damned much."

"Don't think about it now, Querida. Let's have only joy today, no sorrow. Focus on what we have ahead of us, not what obstacles still stand in our way."

"Come back to bed," I held out my arms and he came into them willingly, as we cuddled on the bed quietly. "Tell me what kind of car you rented."

He laughed, "That's a surprise, I told you."

"I don't like surprises."

"You'll like this one. Maybe we need to shower and get out of here so the maid can clean the room up? What about we go for a drive in the country and have brunch at a country inn?"

"That sounds wonderful! Then you promised to take me shopping. I need a special dress for tonight."

"I'll buy you the prettiest dress they have."

"You're not buying me a dress, Carlos, I'm buying it myself. It's going to be a surprise. A dancing dress. Sexy and dramatic and just made to keep you hard looking at me."

"That's not difficult to do, Babe. But what am I supposed to be doing while you're trying on dresses?"

"You can go shopping for me in _Victoria's Secret_. You need to find me something super sexy to wear after we get back from dinner."

"Because I tore off all of your other lingerie."

"You don't sound very apologetic, you brute."

He laughed delightedly, "That's because I'm not. We can pick up another box of condoms on the way in and then we can shower together while we get ready for dinner. How does that sound?"

"Absolutely perfect. And I want you to promise me you'll dance with me all night---until they throw us out of the restaurant."

"I promise."

"Then you can bring me back here and we can spend the rest of the evening dancing horizontally. Deal?"

"Deal!"

"_Omigod! _I forgot to tell you! Remember Fred Higgenbottom and his wife the beady-eyed viper who was looking at you like you were a midnight snack?"

"Yeah---I meant to tell you! No worries! I saw them checking out of the hotel when I went upstairs to change my clothes. They didn't look too happy."

"That's because we had a big run-in at the wedding! Turns out Bertha--the Mrs.--is a friend of the groom's grandmother. Or was. Probably her getting tossed out of the reception for drinking like a lush would put a damper on the friendship. But in any event, I was coming down the steps at the reception, just being introduced to one and all as Stephanie Plum when whom did I see giving me the 'I know you're a slut' look?"

"Fred Higgenbottom was at your wedding? Babe, you have to be the unluckiest--"

"No, no, it worked out _great_! Tina and Stella and all my friends took him on. We just flat out denied he saw what he saw. They alibied me, and he kept saying no. And they kept saying 'she was on the 4th floor all night with us, so we don't know who the hell you thought you saw'…"

"I love it."

"So did I. They had him doubting his own sanity by the end of it. And I told him if I supposedly had all these hickeys, then where the hell _were_ they? Cause Nikki had worked miracles."

"She did at that."

"So then Shamus came over---"

"Who the devil is Shamus?"

"Groom's father. He was very protective of me. He told Fred he was an old goat hitting on me."

"Shamus was?"

"No, silly! _Fred_ was. Then I started to cry and said Fred was rude to me and called me a tart and a slut and---"

"The hell he did!"

"It's OK, Shamus and Mr. Markowitz--the bride's father--tossed Freddie and the Mrs. out and that was the end of that. They're probably back in Kentucky now, and they won't get a chance to flap their lip about me being the good time that was had by the---are you ready for this?---'the almost-naked scary man'. _You_, in other words."

"He had that right. I _am_ scary when any man has the nerve to insult my woman. He's just lucky he didn't call you those names where I could hear him or he'd be in no shape to be flying anywhere."

"He's like 103, Carlos. You wouldn't beat him up."

"No, I'd just send him flying back to Kentucky on the end of my foot, rather than a plane."

"My hero."

"You had fun at the wedding? You said the bride's mother turned up, after all?"

"Yeah, it went well after I stopped bawling and managed to not burn the place down with my candle. I was so embarrassed, though: everyone was looking at me."

"Because you were the most beautiful woman there, no doubt."

"Keep up with those complements, you'll get another blow job."

"Really? Have I told you how gorgeous you're looking this very minute?"

"I'm too exhausted to suck, Carlos. My mouth is practically numb."

"You're able to do a lot of talking though…."

"So I'm talking too much?"

"How did I get into this mess?"

I grinned, "You're not in a mess. _Yet. _But if you don't carry me into the shower and pleasure me then take me off and feed me, you might be in a whole lot of trouble before long."

"Says you, huh?"

"Says me. We Intergalactic Princesses are a bossy lot. And we're _very_ hungry."

"I'll say." He gave a low purr of appreciation.

"Bring the last condom with you………"

Moments later, he swept me up in his arms and carried me into the bathroom where we proceeded to do major damage to the hotel's hot water supply with a marathon shower. By the time we emerged much later, we were both very hungry for food, having totally exhausted our resources in the kind of exercise that leaves you grinning for hours afterwards.

I dressed in a form fitting red dress and my kick-ass Intergalactic Princess boots, and was delighted to see that Carlos was definitely appreciating the picture I made as I struck a pose for him.

Carlos got every bit as much attention from me, dressed as he was in tight fitting blue jeans, a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket with black combat boots. He'd carelessly tossed a black scarf around his neck and I couldn't keep my eyes--or my hands--off him. He looked utterly scrumptious!

"Shall we?" He offered me his arm, and I took it gracefully as we sailed out of the room and into the hallway. We were met by the maid and her cart, and I gave her a sunshiny smile. No way was I going to apologize for having a damned good time with my man! She however had no time in the world for me: she was too busy ogling Carlos' hot tight buns as he strode confidently to the elevator bank and pressed the button. Hell, I couldn't blame her--she had great taste in men!

"I'm proud of you, Babe. Again."

"What for?"

"You didn't even blush or stammer or try to walk twice as fast to get out of the maid's sight."

"Why should I?"

"No need to. But the difference between this morning and yesterday morning couldn't be more pronounced."

"I told you: I've embraced my inner nymphomaniac."

"I like the sound of that: it bodes well for the rest of our day. And especially our evening."

I smiled wickedly as we stepped onto the elevator and found ourselves in a crowd of people. Waiting until the door had closed I pulled Carlos to me for a long hot kiss that had both of us moaning by the time I released him. His dark eyes sparkled: he knew exactly what I was doing. I wasn't going to apologize for loving my man, or being totally and completely turned on by having him in my arms.

The people in the elevator reacted in mixed fashion, as expected. The younger couples smiled, the older ones looked taken aback. One woman gave me a superior-than-thou look and I met it coolly. "You have a problem with something?" I challenged.

Carlos bit his lip and tried to keep from smiling.

"That's completely inappropriate behavior for a public elevator," she took the bait. "You should be ashamed of yourself!"

"I'm not." I pulled Carlos to me for an even deeper kiss, and my hands slid down from his back to his ass. "And I'm not ashamed of _that_ one, either." I gave him a firm pat on the ass, and winked at him. "Carlos, do you find my behavior inappropriate?"

"Hell, no."

"I didn't think so!"

"Well, I never!" my up-tight companion sniffed.

"It shows, too." I sighed, commiserating, "Maybe you'd make your boyfriend here a hell of a lot happier if you _did_!"

That won a laugh from several of the other passengers---including her own companion.

She flushed to her freshly-bleached blonde roots, and muttered under her breath. The door to the elevator opened and Carlos and I strutted out as if we owned the joint. Damn, I was on a roll!

"I've created a monster," Carlos teased, "Now I have to worry about you deliberately causing public show-downs?"

"I didn't hear you complaining any, hot lips."

"I'm not, believe me, I'm not. I just can't get over how comfortable you are with your sexuality now compared to yesterday."

"Having the hottest guy on the planet fuck you totally senseless for 2 whole nights can do that for a woman."

"In that case, maybe we better stop for the condoms on our way out instead of waiting till we get back."

"That's a good idea. Where exactly are we going, anyway?"

Carlos smiled, "Peddler's Village in Lahaska, PA. Ever been there?"

"No, never." I'd never even heard of it.

"Then you're in for a treat. It's about an hour or so away, in the Bucks County region of PA. It's a great little complex of 70 or so specialty shops and a number of fine restaurants and country inns. It's a great place to roam around and spend the day, have brunch and do some shopping."

"Like a Mall?"

"No, Babe, like 42 acres of shops with everything you can name from clothes to antiques to furniture to kitchen supplies. More things than I can reel off, for sure. It's beautiful country and there's more than enough to keep your interest."

"Do they have a _Victoria's Secret_?" Now I was really confused. I'd thought we were going to brunch then hitting a local mall. How was I supposed to find THE dress when we were wandering around some PA complex I was totally unfamiliar with? Damn, a woman needs time to find the right dress, it doesn't happen by luck!

"They have dress shops, Babe, and lingerie shops too. Trust me, you'll find exactly what you're looking for, and have a great time in the process."

"Wow! When did you think this whole idea up?"

"About an hour ago," he confessed. "I wanted to spend the day with you doing something we both liked: you like shopping and I like walking. So we'll both be happy. And then after we've burned off the calories from brunch, we can drive back here and shower and dress for dinner and dancing tonight. I've called and made reservations for 8pm at _Rosa's_."

"Was that who you were talking to when I was putting my makeup on?"

"Yeah, Babe, it's all set. I told them we wanted their best table and that I was bringing in the most beautiful woman in the world so they'd better have lots of dancing or we were taking our business elsewhere."

"Sure you did," I giggled. "You can't threaten restaurants like that! You'll end up sitting right outside the kitchen that way."

"Not _this_ restaurant," he grinned, "I told you: they're _Cuban_. They love serving beautiful women! I told them mine was absolutely gorgeous and I needed to bring a long club to beat off all the men who were going to try to make a move on her."

"You are so full of shit, Carlos!"

"You'll see: you're going to be ogled by every man there. Guaranteed. But _I'm_ the only one you're going to be dancing with. Or else I pull out my club and go caveman."

"I like Caveman Carlos and his big club," I curled into him and we laughed, making our way to the front desk where Carlos gave his name and asked for his rental car. To my surprise, the officious-looking manager hustled right over.

"Mr. Manoso, sir! I had no idea you were staying with us! I apologize for not personally welcoming you sooner!"

Carlos shrugged carelessly, "No big deal, Manuel. Do you have the car I asked for?"

"Yes sir, here is the paperwork; if you'd just sign right there we can have you mobile in only minutes." He gave me a long examination, and it made me feel slightly uncomfortable. "You and your lovely lady will enjoy the car very much, I'm sure. They sent the model you requested---"

Carlos quickly scribbled his name on the papers, and cut the man off as he again tried to make conversation. Clearly all Carlos wanted was the keys to the car; what the manager wanted, I hadn't a clue. The whole thing was starting to get really _weird_!

Taking the keys, Carlos slipped a tip into the man's outstretched hand, and tugged me towards the door.

"Please give my regards to your esteemed father, Mr. Manoso! It's been quite some time since I've seen him and--"

"_Shit_!" I thought I'd imagined Carlos' mumbled curse, it was so quiet. He wasn't making eye contact, either. He was just pulling me out the door and far away from the manager's obsequious voice.

"Is he a friend of your father's?"

"_Everyone_ is a friend of my father's, Babe. Everyone but _me_."

I nodded, remembering the story he'd told me of his estrangement from his father. That explained it, then: Carlos was no doubt uncomfortable being reminded of his father, especially at a time when he was headed for a dangerous mission. Of all the times to meet someone who only wanted to talk about your father! "Sorry, Carlos. That must be painful."

"Forget him, okay? Just focus on _us_ right now! You haven't checked your phone messages….you worried about your mother?"

_Crap! _I hadn't given her so much as a thought! I was too damned busy having truly great sex, and plenty of it. "Damn! I guess I should check, huh?"

"It's up to you, Babe."

"Then, you know what? I'm leaving the phone off! I know Daddy and Grandma lived through the night. I know my mother called a dozen more times or so and got progressively nastier each call. Why would I want to ruin the day by listening to the messages, right? There's plenty of time to hear her nag me once I'm back in the Burg. Meantime, I'm going to have a great time at Peddler's Village and _Rosa's_ and to hell with her bitching!"

"Go, Wonder Woman!"

"OMIGOD, Carlos! Is that a _Porsche_?" I'd just spotted the silver metallic-colored car and from his smug smile I knew immediately this was his surprise.

"You like it? It's a 911 Carrera."

"I _love_ it!" I raced around, running my hands gingerly over the car, and enjoying the feel of it under my fingers. I didn't know a lot about cars, but I knew what a sexy car felt like. This car was an orgasm on wheels! "Omigod! You rented a Porsche for the day? Are you _crazy_?? It must have cost a fortune!"

"It's only money, Babe."

"Yeah, right! Omigod! This is so cool! Can I sit behind the driver's wheel? Please?"

"Why not? Here you go," he said as he casually tossed me the keys and I immediately hopped behind the wheel before he came to his senses and snatched the keys out of my hot little hands. I snapped the car open for him, and watched him slide easily into the passenger's seat. "Want to drive, Babe?"

"Are you kidding me?" My voice was so squeaky I sounded like a real geek.

"Go ahead."

"I can't drive this car, Carlos! What if something happens? I'm not insured to drive your car. I can't do it."

"You're not going to have an accident, Steph. You'll do just fine. Trust me, you want to drive, you drive."

"Maybe just a little bit," I decided, caving in awfully fast. "But if anything happens--"

"Nothing is going to happen."

"Famous last words." I started up the car and moaned in sheer delight at the soft purr of its engine. I was blissful and I could see how amused Carlos was by my excitement. "This is awesome!"

"You like the color?"

"It's very sexy."

"I almost got the red, but I figured that might be too in-your-face."

"The silver is perfect."

"They had a black one. And a dark blue."

"This is perfect. Omigod, Carlos, this car is _amazing_! Wait till you feel how smooth it feels to drive."

"You look good behind the wheel, Babe. Like you were born to drive it."

"Yeah, right. Sure I do. I'm sweating bullets, Superman. I gotta pull over here before I pass out."

"You don't want to drive anymore?"

"I don't think I can. _Honestly. _I'm too busy coming down off my orgasm."

He laughed, then took my hand in his and slowly and oh-so-gracefully kissed it softly. "You make even riding in a car special, Steph."

"It's a frickin' _Porsche_, Carlos!! Of course it's special!"

"It's a _car_, Babe. _You_ are the one who's special. Don't ever forget it."

"Do you think you could take a picture of me behind the wheel, Carlos?" I rummaged in my purse for my digital camera. "Please? No one is going to believe me when I tell them I was driving a Porsche! Go ahead: take the picture, okay?"

"Everyone's gonna believe you, Babe," he assured me.

"Once you take the picture, you're damned straight they will!" I gave him my best smile, ignoring the other motorists who were driving by and honking in irritation. Okay, so maybe I hadn't completely pulled off the road! I was _excited_, damn it all! I was driving a frickin' _Porsche_!

Carlos took a few shots of me behind the driver's wheel, then we switched places and I immortalized him on film. Damn, he looked absolutely gorgeous behind that wheel!

"Enough, Babe?"

"Yeah, we can get going now," I decided, slipping the camera back into my purse. "But we forgot to stop for the condoms. I am soooooooo getting laid in the back seat of this car."

Carlos laughed again, a boyish sort of laugh that I'd never heard from him before. I looked over and grinned, challengingly. "Are you telling me no?"

"I'm not stupid enough to pass up an offer like that, trust me."

"We can do it in the parking lot of the restaurant tonight. Come on: pinkie swear," I held out my finger. I honestly thought Carlos was going to pass out from laughing. "Did I say something funny?"

"Oh, Babe, I'm gonna hold you to that promise. Trust me, I'm looking forward to _that_ more than you'll ever know!"

"This is a hot car," I sat back, checking every square inch of the interior. "I don't think you can sit in here and not think about sex."

"I know _I_ can't," he agreed, "Especially sitting in here with you."

"Just remember we need to get the condoms."

"Babe, I'm going to be totally fixated on nothing else, _trust me_." Then he started laughing again, and we motored off down the highway, heading for Peddler's Village.


	40. Chapter 40

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 40

_Carlos' POV_

_Manuel Munoz! _Fuck! Of all of the people I _didn't _want to run into with Steph in tow, _he'd_ have to rank pretty high on the list. I'd chosen this hotel because of my long familiarity with it and its close proximity to my family's house, but I'd forgotten that Munoz was the manager. Good old Manuel, who was so far up my father's ass that he hadn't seen daylight in _years_! I'd had to rudely cut him off before he'd ruined everything I'd planned for tonight by yakking about how long it had been since he'd been to _Rosa's _for dinner and when he'd last spoken with my father and Alex there--and so I'd grabbed the car keys and tugged Steph out urgently, as if the hotel were on fire. Fortunately, she'd excused my bizarre behavior, correctly realizing that Munoz' friendship with my father made me uncomfortable. Little did she know how much….Then, thankfully, she'd spotted the Porsche and forgotten all about Manuel!

She looked gorgeous behind the wheel of the car, and I began to make plans on how to establish it as a _permanent_ position for her. That car of hers was a real POS; unless I missed my guess, it wasn't going to last very much longer before going to Car Heaven. I sure didn't want her stuck somewhere with an unreliable car, especially with Winter coming on! So I needed to ask Mateo to add on _another_ little surprise delivery for Steph…say, for Christmas? If her present car lasted until December 25th, that is! Now that I had her full legal name--the _right _one--I could ask Mat to arrange to buy her a truly special car that would make her think of me every time she slid behind the wheel.

I'd carefully probed to see if the color was to her liking; I was delighted to see that she was totally in love with the metallic silver (which had been my first choice). I'd grinned at her demand that I take a photo of her behind the wheel because none of her friends would believe she'd driven it. Oh, by the time I got finished with my plan, her friends were _definitely_ going to believe it--because they'd see it for themselves. And the top-rate car insurance would be all paid by me, so she'd have no excuse at all not to enjoy driving it! Even thousands of miles away, I'd still be giving her multi-orgasms daily, if her reaction to driving the car today was anything to go by….

Then she'd suggested that we needed to christen the car with sex, which sounded pretty damned good to me--sex with Steph always did, after all. But when she decided we'd go for it in the parking lot of _Rosa's,_ I'd damned near fallen over laughing my ass off! Oh, yeah, that was _exactly _where I wanted to do it--for sure! Hell, I couldn't wait! Okay, so I had major issues still with my stick-in-his-ass father (especially after his high-handed behavior towards me yesterday afternoon); so, _sue me_! It wasn't my idea to treat the parking lot of the family restaurant like a lover's lane, but I was _definitely_ on board the minute I heard of her plan. I eagerly offered my finger to do that requested pinkie-swear! And I never lost my ear-to-ear grin for the rest of the ride to Peddler's Village.

I was glad I'd chosen it as our destination, especially when Steph's expressive blue eyes widened in delighted surprise as we pulled into the parking lot and climbed out of the Porsche a little over an hour or so after we'd left the hotel. We'd made great time, and I handed her a brochure and smiled indulgently as she oohed and aahed over the huge selection of boutiques and specialty shops the 42 acre complex sported. We walked hand-in-hand over to the Cock'n Bull, where I'd planned for us to enjoy Sunday brunch. By then, Steph's tummy was openly growling in protest at the long delay in feeding her. Hell, I was pretty damned hungry myself.

"This is so pretty! And the weather is perfect today, Carlos! This is incredible! Omigod, I can't believe I've never even _heard_ of this place before! I can't wait to get shopping! I wish I had my Christmas list with me, I could do a ton of damage here!"

Steph was now eagerly snapping digital photos, one after the other. She felt the need to take quite a few of me, and even stopped strangers to ask them to take photos of us together. She was bright and bubbly; lovingly, I memorized her face so I could carry the picture with me in my mind all the lonely months ahead.

We were seated promptly in the cavernous but comfortable dining room of the Cock'n Bull. I was pleased to see that we'd landed one of the choice tables in the front of the restaurant, where we could look out of an almost floor-to-ceiling window wall and watch the passersby enjoying the Indian Summer day in Bucks County, PA.

By this time, we were both examining the menu with great interest. Still, I couldn't take my eyes off her lower lip: she kept biting it in uncertainty as she kept changing her mind on what to she wanted to eat.

"What do you feel like having, Babe?" I asked, as the waitress came over to take our order. The smiling matron poured coffee for both of us, and I laughed as Steph groaned in frustration at the difficulty of making a decision. "Need more time, Steph?"

"I'm so hungry…but everything sounds so _good_! I can't make up my mind, Carlos!" She sighed dramatically, then asked the woman, "What would you recommend? What's the absolutely most decadent thing on the menu? What can't I leave here unless I try??"

The waitress smiled indulgently, "Try the buffet, dear. You'll get a bit of everything that way. The coffee-cake muffins are delish; so are the waffles. And the raspberry-cream-cheese-stuffed French toast is _to-die-for_. I can't ever make up my mind, so I save my appetite up and just taste a little bit of it all!"

"That's ideal," Steph approved, almost bouncing in her chair in excitement. "I'm absolutely _starving_, Carlos! So I'm going to eat breakfast first. Then I'm having lunch. With plenty of dessert."

"Works for me, Babe," I laughed, handing the menus back to the now-beaming waitress. "Look at how high that woman's plate is piled, will you?"

Stephanie's eyes sparkled in delight as the woman passed by our table. The delicious aromas wafting from her plate were sending both of our appetites soaring. We couldn't get to the buffet table fast enough.

And honest to God, Steph was true to her word: she ate with gusto, openly enjoying herself and moaning in pleasure as she particularly enjoyed freshly-baked muffins and croissants, completely slathered in home-made jam. My woman had most of the other diners turning their heads to see her _mmm-mmmm_'ing her way to blissful satisfaction.

Needless to say, there wasn't much conversation going on at our table by this point; we were both too busy eating! We finally reached the point where we couldn't swallow even another bite, and after paying the bill and tucking a generous tip into the leather bill-holder, we made our way outside and Steph decided where we'd head next.

"I'm going right to store 19--_Signatures by Karen Thompson_," she pointed at the brochure, reading the description of the store in excitement, "'_Fashion for the contemporary woman. Updated apparel & accessories inspired by the runways of New York. Affordable brands. Dresses, tops, sportswear, outerwear, scarves, footwear & handbags. Featuring Not Your Daughter's Jeans as seen on Oprah. The shop everyone is talking about!' _It sounds perfect! I'll definitely be able to find a dress for tonight here! And right over here is store 41--_The Velvet Slipper_. _'European comfort and fashion footwear. From Donald J. Pliner to Merrels, Marc Jacobs, Naot, Uggs, Dansko, Clarks, Rocket Dog, Rieker, Jeffrey Campbell, Anne Klein. Casual apparel and Yoga wear featuring Yogi, Bordeau and So Low. Accessories by Kate Spade, Wolford hose, socks and gift items.' _Wow! Is that not the best? If I don't get shoes that match the dress in the first store, I'll definitely be able to find them here. If I don't have them already, that is. I have really kick-ass shoes. You might have noticed."

"I did, Babe. You have great taste." I wasn't teasing her, either.

"In men, too." She grinned wickedly, pulling me in for a sweet kiss. "You can go to _here_." She pointed at the brochure. "Store 30--_Lace Silhouettes Lingerie_. It's not exactly _Victoria's Secret_, but I'm sure you can find some sexy lingerie. It says here that they have _'Affordable "Everyday Luxury" in sleepwear and lingerie. Home of the "world's softest pajama"™ . Featuring Oprah's Favorites, Karen Neuberger and LeMystere along with Wacoal, SPANX, Hanky Panky, Cosabella, Arianne, DKNY and Eileen West. Complimentary bra fittings. Specializing in bridal trousseau. Petite to 3X. Voted "Best" by Intima Magazine. Indulge Yourself!' _Just pick the sexiest things you see. My size is---"

"Babe, I _know_ your size, trust me. I've got your gorgeous little body memorized." And I did. I gave her a wolf grin. "I'm sure you'll be _very_ pleased with my selections."

"I'm sure I will be. Just tell the saleswomen you're already taken, Carlos. Or else I'll have to go in there and kick some ass."

"No problem, Babe, I'm all yours! Where are we meeting up? And when?" I checked my watch, giving her a quick wink, "This is when we synchronize our watches, right, Wonder Woman?"

"Smartass! I'll meet you here--store 37--_Velvet Chic_. _'Sophisticated urban apparel, accessories and gift items. Featuring Seven, Citizens for Humanity, AG Jeans, Ella Moss, James Perse, Velvet, Vince, Ya-Ya, Sweet Pea, Trina Turk, 525 American, T-21, Ruth, Splendid, 555 Soul, J & Company, Marc Jacobs--A Velvet Slipper Company.'_ Say…3:30?"

"Deal."

"Deal. _I'm off_! Bye!"

Steph gave me a quick kiss then ran--and I mean _ran_--to the left while I watched her in utter amazement. She had so much energy, so much childlike excitement and anticipation, I just couldn't take my eyes off her. For as long as I could see her, that is. In minutes, she had disappeared into the crowd and I sighed, heading towards the right where apparently _Lace Silhouettes Lingerie _could be found. I had some plans for some other shopping too: there were quite a few fine jewelry boutiques which featured hand-crafted artisans' work. Hey, a woman could always use jewelry, right?

I'd just about gotten to the lingerie store when my phone began to ring. I checked the caller ID--_Diego_. I had a feeling he had news on Dickie Orr.

"Yo."

"Yo yourself, Superman. I thought I'd let you know we ran into a buddy of yours this morning. Literally ran into: with our fists, I mean."

"This buddy's name--does it rhyme with _Bore_?"

"It does indeed. He's going to be staying far away from your lovely lady from now on. Dickie Boy's going to be in the hospital _at least _overnight. Then he'll be hobbling around town on crutches for quite some time after that. He….fell down the stairs. _Multiple times_."

"Thanks, Diego. I owe you one."

"No, _we_ owe _you_."

"Not anymore. Listen, I gave my cousin Mateo your name and number just in case--"

"Herrera's watching over your lady while you're gone?"

"Yeah. I signed my Will yesterday, gave him my power of attorney, just in case."

"I hear you. Tell him if he needs any help, to just give me a call. _Any_ of us, for that matter. We'll all be ready to jump in and do whatever needs to be done, Carlos. You just concentrate on getting your ass home in one piece by whatever means necessary. Got that?"

"Got it. And--"

"Don't thank me again, man. After all you've done for me, this is _nothing_."

"Not to me, it isn't. Tell the other guys how much I appreciate it."

"I will, brother. Keep the faith."

"Will do." I hung up and thanked God for my loyal friends. Then while I had the phone handy, I decided to call Mateo and share with him my latest brainstorm. His reaction was just as I'd expected.

"You want me to buy her a _Porsche_? Are you fucking _kidding me_?"

"It's not like I'm asking you to use your own damned money, Mat."

"Still, it _hurts_---"

"Make it _un_-hurt. She likes the 911 Carrera."

"Who _doesn't_?"

"Metallic silver."

"Did she ask you for a car?"

"Steph? _Hell, no. _She loaned me her POS 97 Chevy Nova. Damned thing barely runs. It won't last another year and I want her in a reliable car."

"There are other reliable cars that _aren't_ Porsches."

"I want her in that Porsche, Mat. I rented one today, we're over in Peddler's Village and she loved the car. I want her to have one for Christmas."

"Fuck."

"Are you going to do me a favor or just give me shit instead?"

"Both. First you get the shit. Then you get the favor. Or rather Ms. _Mazur _does."

"Smartass. You fixed the Will? No problems?"

"None. I switched out the page. You don't need to get the document re-signed. Although I am loving that you have to give Tio Ricardo and Alex an excuse for why you didn't know the right name of your dear lady love."

"I don't need any damned excuse."

"So _you _think. What? You're expecting they just won't notice Stephanie Mazur has morphed overnight into Stephanie Plum? _Fat chance of that_."

"Stephanie is _Stephanie_. She doesn't _need _a last name. They aren't being introduced with one, after all."

"This has clusterfuck written all over it, you know. FYI."

"So _you _say. I got out of there yesterday without the disaster you were predicting."

"Which pretty much assures you'll meet your Waterloo tonight, Napoleon. Can't wait to see how this whole dog and pony show goes, I gotta tell ya, though."

"Fuck you."

"You know I love you, bro."

"How many calls did you get from Papa and Alex last night and this morning? The truth."

"Two from Alex. Five from Tio Ricardo. Each increasing in volume. All asking, pressing for and finally _demanding _information. And wondering what the hell I was thinking to prepare a Will that lets you leave your money--however little it is--"

"Did Papa say that last part?"

"He did indeed. Your small military insurance policy and your next-to-nothing funds--"

"One day I'm going to rub it in his smug little face that I could buy and sell his damned restaurant twice over. But not while I'm gone and Steph is at his mercy. Another reason not to give him power over her. Or me."

"How do you figure that? _Power? _What power is that, exactly?"

"Power to _find _her, Mat. If I give them her last name--her _real_ last name--then he can find her and make her life totally miserable. Wreck my relationship with her. And he would in a heartbeat, if he had the chance. This whole mistake of mine worked out for the best, you realize that: he can look for Stephanie _Mazur_ until he's blue in the face and find nothing. Provided _you_ hang firm."

"Paranoid little fucker, aren't you?"

"You don't think I'm right to expect him to try to track her down?"

"Hell, you know….you _might_ be right. I'll zip my lip, don't worry. Lawyer-client confidentiality, after all. I know nothing about nothing. I'm really good at that."

"Thanks, Mat. Again."

"A silver fucking Porsche 911 Carrera. I don't believe it."

"I'll get her home address later today and call you with it. I'll tell her I have a package I want delivered to her house, say that it's not ready now. She won't suspect anything."

"Till the package never arrives until December 25th."

"It'll come sooner: I'm going to buy her a few things here in Peddler's Village."

"_Naturally_. Because you never buy her anything."

"You're really pissing me off, Mat."

"Sorry, Carlos. I'm just trying to wrap my brain around this picture of you as a lovesick Lothario running amok with his credit card at the ready."

"Get used to it. This is the new me."

"O-_kay_. Whatever you say."

"I gotta go. See you at 8 at the bar. Remember--"

"I'm your friend Mateo Herrera, not your cousin. But _you_ remember _our _deal! I get to talk to her until I feel comfortable that you're not out of your mind. If I get that bad feeling in my gut, then--"

"Then you're out. Got it. But you're gonna love Stephanie. I know it."

"Not enough to buy her a Porsche without crying. Even if it is _your _damned money I'm using to do it."

"If her car dies before Christmas…"

"Oh, wait! Now I'm supposed to keep track of her POS car's status? Replace the car if it dies prematurely?"

"And get her top rate insurance on my dime."

"_Naturally. _I expected no less. See you tonight, Carlos. Try to keep enough money on your card to afford to pay for a good meal. Tio Ricardo isn't going to give you dinner on the house, you know."

He hung up on me before I could tell him to fuck off. Then I went into _Lace Silhouettes Lingerie _and happily spent just under $800 on sexy lingerie for my woman. Hell, I bought extra because I planned to tear a lot of it off her…..

At 3:30pm I was standing outside of _Velvet Chic _looking for Stephanie, with no idea from which direction she'd be coming. I had quite a few bags with me, and not all of them were from _Lace Silhouettes Lingerie_. I'd stopped into a fine jewelry shop and been drawn to a suite of opal jewelry that I knew Stephanie would _love_. Opals were, after all, her October birthstone, and I wanted to give her something special tonight over dinner. The multi-colored blue stones which held a special light in them reminded me of my Babe's beautiful blue eyes, and so I hadn't hesitated a second before scooping up a drop-dead-gorgeous pair of 18 karat white gold earrings with a cluster of 20 6mm X 4mm pear-shaped Australian opals and a shimmer of diamonds.

I'd happily paid just over $2,700 for the earrings, then I'd gone looking for a pendant, bracelet and a ring that would match. Nothing was too good for my Babe! The jeweler had come out then, helping me to locate a lovely ring that had 6 6mm X 4mm pear-shaped Australian opals and a few small diamonds in a cluster that was reminiscent of the earrings. The ring had come in both 18 karat yellow and white gold, and naturally I'd taken the white gold choice. That ring had been a bargain at $977, and I was beaming as much as the jeweler was by the time I located an opal tennis bracelet with 28 5mm X 3mm oval-shaped Australian opals set in 14 karat white gold. That was an exceptional bargain at just under $800!

It had been more difficult to find a pendant, but I'd finally settled on a lovely 18 karat white gold pendant with 5 6mm X 3mm marquise-shaped Australian opals with a tiny sprinkling of diamonds. It was a mere $470! Damn, I'd found a colossal bargain, I thought; I was proud of myself as I stepped out of the jewelry store with 4 gorgeous pieces for around $4,000! Damn, was I _good_, or what??

I was grinning ear to ear like a fool, imagining my Babe's expressive face when she opened the boxes tonight. I decided to give them to her in the hotel, rather than at the restaurant. Not that I was anticipating my father's no-doubt unhappy reaction to the gift, mind you: I just wondered whether she would wear any or all of the jewelry out to dinner tonight. After all, I didn't know what kind of a dress she'd chosen. It was, she had insisted, going to be a huge surprise for me: something sexy and dramatic. Well, for sure the jewelry I'd chosen was both!

"Hey, good-looking," came a breathless voice, "been waiting long?"

It was Steph, of course, and I pulled her into a deep long kiss. She cooperated fully, and we spent the next few minutes making up for the time we'd been apart.

"Well, if that's what I get when I leave you alone for a bit---"

"It was _forever_, Babe."

"Yeah, for me too! God, I love you, Superman! Have I said that lately?"

"You might have mentioned it once or twice," I allowed, pulling her into another kiss, "but you can say it again anytime you want to."

"I love you," she whispered, and I kissed her again.

"I love you, too, Steph. Where do you want to go now? Did you find your dress?"

She grinned happily, "I sure did. And killer shoes, too. I'm gonna knock your socks off tonight."

"You always do, Babe. Especially without the dress." I gave her my full-on wolf grin.

"You are so baaaad!"

"Wait till you see what I have for you."

"Sexy lingerie, huh?"

"Very sexy. But it has nothing on the woman herself!"

"Good answer! Hey, there's _Pine Wreath and Candle_! Let's go in and pick up some romantic lighting for tonight!"

I agreed, and we headed across to the candle shop, where we chose a number of pillar and tea lights to set the mood for tonight. Then it was time to move on. We ended up stopping in _Skip's Candy Corner_, where of course Stephanie added to her stash of energy-building chocolate. I insisted on buying some chocolate-dipped strawberries; paired with some champagne from room service, it would definitely set a romantic mood!

"Omigod! I have to go in there!" Steph demanded breathlessly, pointing to _The Paper Chase_.

Frankly I didn't see the attraction, but it became apparent that I wasn't wanted in there, for whatever reason.

"It's…what? _Stationary_? You have an overwhelming desire to write someone a letter right now?"

"Never mind what I have an overwhelming desire to do, Carlos! It's on a _need-to-know _basis, and _you _don't need-to-know. I just need like 20 minutes in there to make a special purchase. There are a ton of other shops you can visit. Pick one and I'll meet you there in 20 minutes, tops. Please?"

I shrugged, "Fine. I'll be over in _Artisan's Gallery_, right up there. Far be it from me to get between a determined woman and her paper obsession!"

Stephanie winked, then disappeared into _The Paper Chase. _I ambled into _Artisan's Gallery_, and in moments I was doing some Christmas shopping for my Mama, my Abuela, Tia Carmen and my sisters. The store had fine contemporary American crafts, including jewelry, pottery, wood, kaleidoscopes, glass and fibers. I provided the storekeeper with Mateo's address, and requested that the items I'd selected be shipped directly to him. And I called him again to let him know that the items would be coming.

"You're actually buying some things for someone other than the lovely Miss Plum?" Mateo's voice registered his amusement.

"I am, I need you to---"

"Keep them for Christmas and then deliver them like Santa. Can do. What about your esteemed Papa? What are you planning to get for him, pray tell?"

"What he needs the most. A personality transplant."

"Hah hah! Won't work, Carlos. You're stuck with him _as is_."

"Shit. I guess I have to find _something_."

"Said with all the love of a second son."

"What the hell should I get him? I have no fuckin' idea. I know Alex would love some of the wines in the shop across the way. I'll have them shipped to you, too, if it's okay?"

"Sure thing. _Mateo Herrera's Warehouse and Fine Goods Emporium_. Open 24/7. Just pull the trucks up in the back…"

"Have I said _fuck you _lately?"

"You know you love me, Carlos."

"I do, Mat. I appreciate all--"

"Forget it, bro. You don't need to get mushy; I know damned well that you appreciate it. You'd do the same thing for me. So don't shock me by getting all sappy and--"

"Fuck you."

He laughed again, and I ended the call with a grin. He was more of a brother than a cousin; Mat and I had the kind of special relationship that Alex and I could never have. So, what then was I going to get for Mat? Now _that_ was going to take some thought…..

Moments later I saw Steph breezing into the shop, her face radiant with excitement. _That must have been some stationary store!_

"Over here, Babe! Did you get what you wanted?"

"Yep. What about you?" She noted that I was paying for merchandise and I saw her eyes sparkle with curiosity. "Christmas shopping?"

"For my Mama and Abuela, among others. I'm having the store ship the items directly. What do you think of these?" I pointed out the pottery I'd selected. "My Mama loves this stuff. So do my sisters. They have quite a collection! Most of it from me over the years."

"Pretty! I love the color of this one, particularly. What about your Abuela?"

"I got her a hand loomed cashmere shawl. This one here, in fact. You like it?"

"Gorgeous! It's so soft, Carlos! I can't imagine any woman who wouldn't absolutely _love_ it!"

"That's what I wanted to hear, Babe. You gonna let me pick one out for you and ship it to your home for Christmas?" I'd thought up the perfect excuse to get her address!

She flushed, and nodded, "I'd love one. Surprise me with the color, okay?"

"Give me your address, Babe, and then give me 20 minutes and I'll take care of it. Thanks, Steph."

"For _what_? Letting you buy me a beautiful shawl? It's _me_ who should be thanking _you_, Carlos. And I do---"

"You haven't seen it yet, Babe. You might hate my choice."

"No, I won't. I'll love whatever it is because _you're_ the one who chose it." She scribbled her address down on the paper the sales clerk provided, and gave me a soft kiss before departing. In minutes I'd copied her address down for myself, and then I set about putting together another special package of items that I thought my Babe would love. Damn, I was _loving _playing Santa Claus!

Just under 20 minutes later, I joined Stephanie outside the store and pointed her in the direction of _The Chaddsford Winery_. I wanted to put together a selection of wines for the men on my list. Steph and I saluted each other as we tasted the wines and by the time we'd finished our business there, I had quite a bit of Christmas shopping done. Mateo would be a very busy man, for sure…

More importantly, I'd decided on what to get my cousin: a voucher for a cruise to the Caribbean! I'd make the arrangements before leaving tomorrow, and come Christmas he'd get a very pleasant surprise for him and his entire family, whenever he wanted to take advantage of it. I knew he'd always wanted to take his family on a cruise; his wife and kids would be delighted, as well. Needless to say, he wouldn't be telling my father or Alex where the cruise came from--they wouldn't believe him, anyway. My father was convinced I was on a limited budget, apparently. Whatever he wanted to think was fine with me: I sure as hell didn't want him paying too much attention to my finances now that he knew Stephanie would be my beneficiary. Not that he would covet my money; just that he'd be determined that this mystery woman would not benefit from my death….

"Heavy thoughts, Superman?" Stephanie's soft voice interrupted my musings.

"Kinda, Babe. Just thinking about things I can change…and things I can't."

"Your father, huh?"

How the hell had she guessed? I must have looked as surprised as I felt, because I saw Steph smile sadly, "I'd love to meet this guy and set him straight on how lucky he is to have you for a son. You just point me at him and step back, Carlos. I'll straighten him out in record time!"

I pulled her towards me, giving her a hug as I blinked back sudden tears. "Don't worry about him, Babe. I'm used to it by now." _Yeah, sure I was. But it still hurt like hell. Trust Steph to know it!_

"You shouldn't _have _to be used to him, Carlos. As angry as you are towards my mother? _That's _how angry I am towards your father. You promise me that you'll introduce me to him one day, okay? Because he and I are going to have a _looooong_ talk. And he isn't going to be smiling at the end of it. _Guaranteed_."

"I promise, Steph. I'll let you kick his ass--provided I get to do the same with your mother."

"_Deal! _Now, let's blow this place, okay? Not that I don't love it here, but I'd like to get some time with you back in the hotel…."

"You want me bad."

"You got _that _in one! I'm thinking I might have to drag you into an alley very soon--I'm feeling very horny."

"That's good news: I think we're going to break land speed records for getting back to Newark, Babe."

"Then it's fortunate we have a Porsche handy, now isn't it?"

It sure as hell was! We headed back to the car and were underway before long, the back seat stuffed to overflow with bags of our shopping bounty. We'd have enough time to spend some time in bed before showering leisurely and heading out for our planned dinner at _Rosa's_. It was going to be a night to remember, for certain!


	41. Chapter 41

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 41

We hit traffic on the way back from Peddler's Village, so by the time we arrived at the hotel it was almost 5:30pm. Laden with packages from our afternoon of shopping, we hurriedly crossed the hotel lobby. Carlos seemed relieved not to be greeted by his father's friend this time around. Where the man was, I neither knew nor cared. We made a quick stop at the hotel's sundry shop for a new box of condoms--we had the right priorities, after all! I just hoped we could drag ourselves out of bed long enough to go out for dinner: I knew I couldn't get enough of him, but a night of dinner and dancing would give us many memories to last throughout the long and difficult months to come.

Carlos gallantly escorted me up to 407, then quickly headed up to his room on the 8th floor in order to grab a change of clothes for the night, make a few necessary phone calls, and pick up his freshly pressed suit from yesterday. He'd left me with several bags from _Lace Silhouettes Lingerie_, asking that I change into what was inside a particular bag. When I opened it, I couldn't believe my eyes! Clearly this was a man who knew what he wanted…happily, that was _me_!

I began to set up tea lights in preparation for our romantic evening. Since we had about 2 ½ hours left until dinner, we'd planned to order champagne from room service, and nibble on chocolate-covered strawberries--and each other--as we made love in bed. That way we'd satisfy a few appetites at the same time!

Checking my watch, I realized that I didn't have much time to spare before Carlos returned. I decided that the tea lights and the strawberries could wait, so could the quick shower and change of clothes. What _couldn't_ wait was my surprise--the real reason I'd gone into _The Paper Chase _store: I'd written out my 'love contract' (as I thought of it) on hotel stationary; but I had desperately wanted a more decorative paper, as Stella and Patrick had used for their Ketubah. So I'd convinced Carlos to give me 20 minutes in there alone, and I'd gone on a targeted search for specifically-themed paper. I'd found it with time to spare: it was perfect for my purposes, a yellow brick road path leading over hills to a happily ever where Dorothy would meet The Wizard of Oz….and I, Stephanie, would be reunited with my Wizard of Ahhhs, Carlos, so that we could begin our new life together.

I pulled out the 'love contract' I'd written, and quickly but carefully re-copied it onto the stationary, adding a last line and the day's date. I intended to give it to Carlos over dinner, with my _other_ special surprise. I'd found the ideal dress and shoes almost immediately--it was as if they were waiting for me--and the wrap and a new purse hadn't been difficult to find, either. So that left me time for my _real _mission: finding something Carlos could carry with him when he went to war, just in case he couldn't take that 'love contract'. Something to keep him safe and protected--something to bring him home to me!

I'd wandered around increasingly urgently in the small family-owned jewelry store, then the friendly saleswoman had finished serving another customer and had come over and asked me what I was looking for. I'd explained that the man I loved was a soldier shipping out on Monday, and I wanted a St. Christopher medal that he could carry with him (or perhaps wear on his dog tags). I knew St. Christopher was the patron Saint of Travelers, so I'd thought that would fit the bill. I myself always kept a St. Christopher medal in my car; I had since my first days of driving, when my Grandma Mazur gave it to me.

Here's where I got lucky: the saleswoman, it turned out, had sold quite a few medals to people whose loved ones were going to war. She recommended that I select a medal of St. _Michael _instead, telling me that he was the Patron Saint of Soldiers and Warriors. According to her, many solders in Iraq were either wearing St. Michael medals, or were even getting tattooed with the Saint's likeness.

I thanked her, and looked at the selection of medals they carried in both Silver and Gold. I was having a terrible time picking out the ideal one, until she took pity on me and kindly recommended a sterling silver medal with St. Michael on one side of the medal, and the seal of the Army on the reverse. It was on a silver chain, very simple. Although I had my suspicions Carlos was Special Forces--Delta Force, in fact--I remembered he'd told me he was in the Army and asked me not to question him further. The Army medal seemed like the best medal to choose, given those circumstances. I asked a few more questions of the knowledgeable saleswoman, and learned that soldiers were permitted to wear the medals with their dog tags. So my decision was made, and the box was beautifully gift-wrapped.

I pulled out the new purse I'd bought this afternoon, and quickly stashed in it the gift-wrapped jewelry box, the envelope containing the 'love contract', and a few other items I would need for the evening: my key card, lipstick, compact, and cell phone.

While I had the phone in my hands, I checked my messages. Holy horse puckey! _Fifteen _messages from my mother! Good thing I'd turned it off, or I'd have been inundated with her 'come home immediately' calls all day! Just to be sure Grandma and Daddy hadn't in fact ended up killing each other, I began to listen to the messages. Nope. No homicides reported overnight. Just my mother increasingly furious that I was not obeying orders and scurrying 'home' to do her bidding. I deleted all the messages, muttering to myself. Then I got to Tina's--her message coming in just recently.

"Hey, sweetie, you know damned well who this is. How's your special day with your Stud Muffin coming? Just touching base with you. _Mamma Mia _was phenomenal, we all enjoyed. We're heading to dinner now--some drinks first, of course. Hope we don't get arrested, _ha ha_! I'm kidding--I think. I'm not sure about Ruby, though--she looks dangerous! I'll be back at the hotel by 9. Have a great time at dinner, enjoy, enjoy, and leave me a message how you want to handle tomorrow. I'm up for whatever works for you, Stevie! Love ya."

I smiled, then dialed her cell. She picked up immediately.

"Hey, Stevie! How goes it?"

"Hey, yourself, Tina. You guys all had fun?"

"Yeah, you and I gotta go and see it together--you'll love it. How's the Stud Muffin?"

"Upstairs getting some clothes to wear to dinner tonight."

"Bet you'd rather he stayed naked and _be_ dinner."

"You got that right. He told me that Fred Higgenbottom and the Mrs. checked out yesterday--and they weren't looking too happy. Seems like a bunch of my friends kicked his ass for me."

"You're welcome, sweetie. You have fun today?"

"The best. Carlos rented a Porsche and drove me out to Peddler's Village in Lahaska, PA. We _have_ to go there, Tina, they have the most _fantastic_ shopping! And food to die for. I found the most gorgeous dress to wear tonight, and killer shoes to match. Anyway, we're going out for dinner and dancing and then he's staying the night with me. I--I don't want to even think about tomorrow."

"I understand, sweetie. You want all the time with him you can get. I'll get room service for breakfast tomorrow; all the others are picking up their luggage from my room tonight and heading back home when we get back to the hotel. They checked out after breakfast, as planned. Stella and Patrick left for Ireland on time, they should be there by now. I can just grab a cab to the office tomorrow morning and pick up my car in the lot--"

"No, you aren't taking a cab. We had a plan!"

"That was _BC_. Before Carlos."

"We drove in together after work Friday, remember? That was _my_ idea, not yours! I didn't want to drive alone. So I'm not letting you call a cab, Tina. _No way_."

"I don't mind, honestly, Stevie. It isn't far."

"_I _mind. Not happening, Tina. We were planning to take the morning off and laze around in the hotel, then go in to work tomorrow afternoon. I'm still planning to go in to work, so I can give you a lift to the office to pick up your car. But I'd like to have breakfast with Carlos. So if you don't mind getting breakfast yourself--"

"I _told_ you I was fine with it, Stevie. Look, you talk to your man. Find out what works for both of you and let me know, okay? I'm fine with _whatever_! Everyone says _HI_, by the way."

"Hi to them, too. Look, I gotta take a shower, so I'll call you later, okay? I'll see how Carlos wants to handle things for tomorrow morning. Maybe he doesn't even _want_ me to take him to the airport--"

"Fat chance. The man wants every second he can get with you, and we both know it."

"I hope so. Cause I can't bear saying goodbye to him a second more than I have to."

"So _don't_. Quick! Tell me about this dress!"

"Oh God, Tina, you _have_ to see it. It's phenomenally gorgeous! It's the ultimate little black dress with the most delicate silver embroidery on the halter top, and the shoes are _killers_! I got them both in the same little boutique--and I scored the deal of all deals! Wait until you see them. But--"

"But _nothing_! Go do your thing, girl! Have tons of fun and save the details for poor little me, who lives vicariously through you these days. Love ya."

"Love you, too, Tina. Talk to you later. Have fun over drinks and dinner."

I ended the call, then grabbed the lingerie Carlos had chosen for me and ran like hell into the bathroom for a quick shower before he arrived. I needed to get a move on! Taking my new dress along, I hung it up to steam out any wrinkles as I showered.

Ten minutes later--I'd broken all records--I slathered on body moisturizer, spritzed on some perfume and dabbed on some mascara and lipstick (all I needed to look my best). I dressed in the racy lingerie, fluffed my hair, and then scurried outside to unpack the shoes and the gray cashmere wrap I'd chosen.

A knock sounded on the door just as I was finishing setting up the pillars and the tea lights, and opening the box of tempting chocolate-covered strawberries. I quickly lit the candles, then flew to the door.

"Who is it?"

"The man who loves you, Babe."

I grinned, then threw open the door and struck a provocative pose. I thought Carlos' jaw was going to scrape the floor. His dark chocolate eyes slowly traveled over my body, then he seemed to shake himself out of a stupor and he entered the room, closing the door firmly behind him. He hung his suit up, and dropped an overnight bag on the floor beside the door.

"Now _that's_ what I call a warm welcome!"

"You have no idea how warm," I teased, waving my hand to indicate how hot he himself looked. He'd obviously showered and thrown on jeans and a t-shirt to make his way down to my room. "You are _smokin'_, Superman! But you're definitely over-dressed! I'll have to help you out with that."

A slow wolf grin formed, "You go right ahead, Babe. But don't get too far ahead of things: I called for room service before I came down here. We'll have our champagne any time now."

"They better hurry up or I'll be tasting _you_ before the champagne…"

"Dios! You're _gorgeous_, Stephanie, you have no idea how incredibly seductive you look! Come over here, you little---"

He pulled me into his arms and delivered a bone-melting kiss that made me forget all about the damned champagne and the strawberries! I was ready to jump his bones right then and there, but Carlos was determined to take it slow. The man loved to kiss, I already knew that. And he was an expert at it: he had me in a feverish state by the time the knock sounded at the door. I had to practically drag myself into the bathroom to hide while Carlos let the waiter in with the bucket of champagne he'd ordered. I saw my reflection in the mirror, and didn't even recognize the rosy-cheeked sparkling-eyed woman who peered back at me. I'd already ruined my panties, and my lips were swollen with his kisses. And I was aching for _more_!

"It's safe to come back in now, Querida."

I licked my lips, taking a deep breath, and peeked out. Carlos was pouring the champagne and I took the opportunity to examine his muscular back and tight ass. God, he was so sexy it should be illegal! Turning, he offered me a glass of the bubbly as he toasted me solemnly.

"To the most beautiful and irresistibly sexy woman I've ever seen in my life--inside and out. You're the only woman I want to be with, the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, the woman I want to have a family with and grow old with. I love you, Stephanie. Always and forever."

I smiled, toasting him right back. "I love you too, Carlos! And I want to be with you--and only with you--for as long as I live. You're everything to me! I can't wait to start a life with you, and have children with you and grandchildren one day. You're the man I've dreamed of my whole life, and I'm the luckiest woman in the world to have met you."

"I'm the lucky one, Stephanie. I wanted to--I have something to give you."

"Yeah, I can tell," I teased, pointing out his increasingly hard package. "Very impressive, Superman."

He laughed, "That wasn't what I meant, Babe. But you're going to get that too."

"I damned well better," I teased, "You can't get a woman all worked up like that and then just leave her high and dry, you know."

"Not a chance of that," he leaned in and brushed my hair off my shoulders before dropping kisses along my throat and shoulder blades. "I'm too hungry for you to stop now. Although I have a feeling my original plan of taking things slow is out the window right about now…."

"Good. Slow is over-rated. I like the idea of fast and hard and deep right about now."

We finished our champagne and then traded a few deep wet kisses before I began divest him of his shirt.

"So, are you going to show me what you have for me?" I ran my hands down his washboard abs and loved how he shivered in pleasure under my hands.

"I will, but first I'm going to make love to you."

"I like the sound of that."

"You're going to like more than that when I get finished with you," his voice was husky.

He lowered his mouth to mine, nibbling on my bottom lip, sucking it gently and teasing me until I forced my tongue into his mouth and deepened the kiss. The kisses turned incendiary then; our hands were all over each other, starved as we were for skin to skin contact. Carlos' kisses scorched my throat and shoulder blades, and by the time he untied the fastening that held my nightie together my nipples were standing at attention and demanding to be kissed. He complied, taking my breasts into his mouth one at a time, licking, laving, sucking and then gently nibbling until I couldn't stand up anymore. My knees were weak, my legs had turned to rubber, and my doodah was on fire!

Carlos swept me up in his powerful arms and carried me to the bed. I'd turned down the sheets, and he lowered me to the bed, then followed me down. His hands moved over my body, sending me into transports of delight. I felt his fingers untie the sides of my panties, and I parted my legs so he could remove it. My panties were completely soaked, and so was I.

"You're ready for me now, aren't you?" his voice was husky.

"I need you," I couldn't even recognize my own voice.

"I need you more," he whispered, then lowered his mouth between my legs. What he did next was nothing short of magic. The man played my body like an instrument, winning sounds from me that I'd never made before. He was relentless in coaxing one amazingly-powerful orgasm after another out of me. I was clutching the sheets and screaming in pleasure by the time he took pity on me. He broke off long enough to don a condom, and then he plunged inside of me, so deep and so fast that I cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure. I thought of that John Mellencamp song: "Hurt So Good". And it did.

He ripped into me and I didn't think I could stand the pleasure it was so damned intense. I thought I would explode, more than once. But he was a master at lovemaking, and at fucking, and this was a mixture of both. He changed his rhythm so many times I never knew what to expect next. But his kisses were by turn fiery and gentle, his touches firm and loving. I gave myself completely over to the pleasure of loving him, and we made magic together. There was no other word for it. We hit orgasm together, and lay spent in each others' arms for moments afterwards as we struggled to catch our breath.

I knew then that there could never be any other man for me but Carlos, no matter how long I lived. I'd found him, and soon I had to give him up. The pain mixed with the pleasure, and it brought Tina's words back to me….

He returned from the bathroom, having disposed of the condom. Climbing back into bed, he pulled me into his arms to cuddle.

"I don't want to dwell on it, but I think we need to talk about tomorrow," I said softly.

"_Babe_--"

"I know, you have to go. It's your job, I'm not going to do or say anything to make you uncomfortable, Carlos. I just want to figure out how we're going to handle things tomorrow morning." I was proud of myself for keeping my voice level and not bursting out crying. I couldn't guarantee I wouldn't do that at some point, but I was calm right now.

"I've got a flight out to NC that leaves at 11:45am," he said quietly, stroking my arm. "I've got to get to the airport by 10, that'll give me enough time to check in."

"Can I drive you to the airport?" He hesitated, and I pressed, "Please? I want to. I won't create a scene, I promise. I just--I want to be there for you."

"They won't let you past the gate, Babe. You won't be able to wait with me."

"But I'll have some extra time with you," I said stubbornly.

There was a long pause. "I was planning on taking the Porsche to the airport and turning it in there."

"So I'll have Tina meet me there with my car, and then we'll leave from there. She called to ask what we're doing--I wanted to work it out with you."

"If you want to drive me to the airport, Babe, you can. I'd--I'd like that. A lot."

"Good, it's settled then. We don't have to think about it for the rest of the night. Or talk about it. Tonight we just pretend tomorrow isn't going to come. Deal?"

"Deal."

"In the meantime--"

I let my hands wander down his body, where I came to the now-increasing bulge under the sheets. Smiling, I dipped my hand under the sheet and began stroking him gently. He moaned softly, and I took it as encouragement to continue my ministrations. I pushed aside the sheet, and began dropping kisses down his chest, slowly making my way down to his cock. I met his eyes and licked my lips, and he murmured something in Spanish as I bent to take him into my mouth. I worked my kind of magic on him and heard the kind of groaning that let me know that he was enjoying himself tremendously. I kept up the pace for several minutes before I moved to take a condom from the box.

"Now I'm going to try something new…."

"Babe!"

I had seen this trick on an HBO show called _Real Sex_--back when I wasn't having any. I'd remembered it and decided now was the perfect time to try it. I ripped open the packet and took the condom between my lips. I was either going to slide the condom on him using my mouth…or else I'd embarrass myself and choke on it. Damn! I could hear my mother already: _'Mrs. Kaplinski's daughter Kyra doesn't swallow condoms and have her stomach pumped at the hospital. And on Sunday, no less!' _

I forced the nagging voice out of my head and focused instead on doing what _I_ wanted to do. _I was my own person._ _To hell with my mother and the Burg! _I used my mouth to push the condom down Carlos' hard thick cock, and then I quickly moved to straddle him. I impaled myself upon him, and the pleasure was instantaneous. I began to ride him slowly at first, picking up the pace as his hands wrapped around my waist. We locked eyes, and he let me take the lead.

I leaned over and our mouths met in a searing kiss that turned into another marathon kissing session. I told you that Carlos loves to kiss, didn't I? I broke the kisses off finally, and began to grind myself on him as the first orgasm hit me. I threw my head back in ecstasy, and he moved his hand so that he was toying with my clit. That set me off again, and still again. Finally, neither of us could wait any longer, and I quickened the pace until we both came together in a deeply satisfying orgasm.

When we recovered, it was time for another glass of champagne and several of the delicious chocolate-covered strawberries. We fed them to each other, and traded slow lazy kisses as we enjoyed their sweetness. I was totally relaxed, and happier than I've ever been in my life.

Carlos examined me carefully. "Do you want to see what else I have for you?"

I grinned lasciviously, "I _always_ want to see what you have--"

"Not _that_, Steph," he laughed, "I meant your presents."

"Presents? I _love_ presents!" I beamed, "Of course I do! Show me!"

He gave me a quick kiss, then climbed off the bed and retrieved the many _Lace Silhouettes Lingerie _bags he'd brought in. "Close your eyes."

"Okay, they're closed."

I heard rustling, and bit my lip in excitement. I couldn't wait to see what he'd picked out. I knew some of it wouldn't last the night: he'd be tearing it off me later. But some of it would last, and every time I wore it, I would think of this magical weekend.

"Here you go, Babe. These are for you. Wear them and think about me."

I opened the first package and gasped. "Omigod! It's perfect! I can wear this tonight with my dress!"

Carlos' eyes gleamed, "That sounds promising!"

I examined the black lace teddy and felt the heat pooling in my doodah. Oh, yes, _this_ would set the kind of mood I wanted for the evening! "Thank you, Carlos! I love it!"

"You're welcome, Babe, although when I imagine you wearing it, _I_ think I should be the one thanking _you_."

"Sounds like we're both happy," I teased, "And there are still more presents to open! Lucky me!"

"So go ahead and open the rest--"

I was already tearing open the paper eagerly to see what else Carlos had chosen. Moments later I was holding up a beautiful ivory satin merrywidow, trimmed with chiffon. I stroked it lightly, loving the feel of it, and appreciating Carlos' sophisticated taste. I would have chosen it myself, had I seen it.

"It's _gorgeous_! I just love it!"

"You'll be gorgeous in it, Steph. It was made for you. I just bought whatever reminded me of you. I hope you like them…."

Well, evidently Carlos thought _dozens_ of things reminded him of me, because the boxes that followed had tons of lingerie inside, in all colors of the rainbow. There were teddies, slips, bras and panties of all types, and they were all absolutely beautiful. Very feminine, very tasteful. I knelt on the bed, surrounded by lingerie, tissue paper and empty boxes.

"I don't know what else to say but thank you, Carlos! They're all so lovely, I just don't know how to tell you how much I appreciate them all."

Carlos smiled, "I love to see you happy, Babe. You have such a beautiful smile, it lights up the room. It lights up my world."

He came into my arms then and we exchanged a few soft kisses that quickly grew to more. In minutes we were brushing the lingerie and the boxes aside, eager to feel skin upon skin. His mouth took mine and in minutes we were reaching for the now-dwindling supply of condoms. We rolled around, dueling for control, and by the time we had both climaxed, the bed looked like a cyclone had hit it. The maid was not going to be happy when she did her 'turn down' service, that's for sure!

"MMMM, it gets better every time," I sighed happily, "I've never felt anything like what I feel when I'm with you. Never."

"It's beyond anything I ever imagined. I'll remember every minute we spent this weekend, Steph. Every single second. And then when I return--"

"Then we can start our new life together."

"I want to give you something special. Something--think of it as an early birthday present--"

"Carlos, what--"

I watched as he climbed out of bed, headed to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, then grabbed another bag I hadn't seen before. He brought it over to me and smiled, "This bag is for you, Babe. Wear them in the best of health."

"Wear _them_? I wonder what they are?" I was eagerly unwrapping the first package in the bag by then, and when I opened the box containing the clustered opal earrings I was totally overwhelmed. "Omigod! Omigod! Carlos, they're magnificent! I've never seen anything so beautiful in my life!"

"Glad you like them, Babe. I saw them and I thought of you. Maybe you can wear them tonight?"

"Of course I can," I breathed, still awe-struck by the loveliness of the earrings, "They'll go perfectly with my dress!" And they would: the white gold would match the silver thread of the embroidery as if they were made for it. I'd already decided to pull my hair back in a Latin-style chignon; that would showcase the earrings even more. I looked up at Carlos, who was watching me with a happy smile on his face. He looked so handsome, so carefree--I memorized his face, his smile. I would keep it with me forever.

"Aren't you going to open up the next box?"

"Of course I am! I'm just trying to decide which box to open next."

He reached over and handed me one, "Open this one."

I bit my lip, eagerly unwrapping the package to reveal a ring made of a cluster of opals that matched the earrings perfectly. My mouth gaped open and I was speechless. I couldn't stop looking at the ring: it caught the light and the shimmer blinded me.

Carlos reached over to gently stroke my face, "Stephanie, I love you. I can't ask you to marry me tonight, it wouldn't be fair to you. But when I come back--and I will--that'll be the first question I ask you. In the meantime, will you please wear this ring as my promise to you that I will come back?"

I felt the tears flowing then, and I nodded my agreement as he slipped it onto the ring finger of my right hand. His fingers brushed the tears from my eyes, and he kissed me gently.

"I love you, too, Carlos. And I know you'll come back to me. When you do--when you ask me to be your wife--the answer will be yes."

"Now that's the best incentive for me to get back safely, Babe. In the meantime, you have two boxes left to open. Try this one next."

I opened the box, finding the most exquisite opal tennis bracelet nestled inside. "Oh, Carlos! It's the most beautiful bracelet I've ever seen in my life! Thank you!"

"You're welcome, Babe. Enjoy!"

"You shouldn't have spent all your money on me!"

"I can't think of anything I want more than to see you smile, Steph."

"I'd smile just looking at you, Carlos. You don't need to buy me gifts. But I do love every last one of them because they came from you. They're so beautiful."

"So are you. Open your last gift, then. And see if you like it just as much as you liked the others."

"I'm sure I will," I replied, opening the last package and seeing a lovely necklace that would match the other jewelry he'd given me. "Oh, Carlos! It's gorgeous! I love it! You have really good taste. I--I don't know what else to say. Thank you!"

"You don't have to say anything else, Babe," he responded, "Just think of me when you wear them, and remember how much I love you."

"I will. And I have something for you to wear, too." I got up from the bed and picked up my new purse, taking out the gift box inside and handing it to him. "I was going to give you this in the restaurant. But I'd rather you have it now."

"_Babe_!" Carlos took the box, and I could see on his face he was afraid he was going to have to say he couldn't wear it where he was going.

"Before you say it, I asked if it was okay, and the woman said soldiers can wear them with their dog tags."

Carlos had opened the box by then, and a big smile crossed his face. "This is perfect, Babe! I can wear this. And I will. And I'll think of you every day and every night."

I leaned into his kiss, and my hands ran through his thick glossy hair. "St. Michael is going to keep you safe, and bring you home to me. Now let me put it on you, okay? Just like you put on my ring."

He nodded, and I gingerly took the medal out of its box and opened the clasp. I put the necklace on Carlos, and ran my fingers over his chest after adjusting the medal so that it lay right.

"Thank you, Babe."

"You're welcome, Superman."

"At the risk of ruining the moment, I have to say we need to get ourselves into the shower or we aren't going to get to dinner on time. And I'm really looking forward to showing you off on my arm tonight."

"Plenty of dancing, yes?"

"Yes, all of it with me."

"There's no one else I'd rather be with than you, you know that. I should have asked before: are you a good dancer?"

"I'm Cuban, Babe, I've got dancing in my blood. I'll tell you something else I'm good at."

"What's that?"

A big wolf grin. "I'm good in the shower."

And he was. Damned good! So good that it took everything I could muster up to climb out of the shower and not head directly back to bed. But instead, Carlos and I dressed for dinner: me in my new black dress, and Carlos in his black suit with a white shirt and a black tie. He looked elegant, and from his eyes on me, I could tell that he thought I looked damned good too.

I'd taken off my opal ring, knowing it was too porous to wear in the shower. Carlos put it back on my finger, and kissed my hand lovingly. I'd fashioned my hair into a chignon, and slipped on my new earrings. Then Carlos fastened the bracelet onto my wrist, and stepped back to take in the sight of me.

"Spectacular! You'll have everyone there looking at you. The men will want to be with you, and the women will wish they had just a fraction of your beauty."

"More likely, they'll wish they had my dinner companion," I grinned wickedly, "But you're all mine. And I don't share."

"You won't have to. You're the only woman I want. Now and always."

I smiled as Carlos walked towards me, fastening his tie and grabbing his jacket. He looked so handsome, it almost took my breath away!

"Ready to go, Babe?"

"Lead on, Superman. I'm so looking forward to tonight, you have no idea!"

"Let's hope it lives up to your expectations, Steph. I want to make this a night to remember."

"It will be, for both of us."

He wrapped my shawl around me, and dropped a tender kiss on the side of my neck. "Then let's get the show on the road, shall we?"

Carlos opened the door and I swept out, feeling like the luckiest woman in the world.


	42. Chapter 42

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 42

_Carlos' POV_

_Rosa's_ hadn't changed much in the two years since I'd been there for my sister Pilar's wedding reception. I drove the silver Porsche up to one of the two lattice-trimmed porticos of the imposing block-long white stucco building, and surrendered the car to valet parking.

Putting my arm protectively around Stephanie, I opened the heavy wooden door and was immediately greeted by the sound of pulsing Latin rhythm from the live band and the delicious aroma of spicy food that had my mouth watering. The cavernous interior was just as impressive as I'd remembered: the bar sitting grandly to the left of the entrance, the crowded dance floor to the right. Tables--most of them full--were on either side of the entrance; private rooms, I knew, awaited further inside the restaurant. _Rosa's_ was a very popular spot for weddings, parties, special events of all types. It was rare that the place wasn't packed, and reservations were a necessity. My head knew that my father had every reason to be proud of his business, but my heart still resented that it obviously was more important to him than his family. Certainly more important than his second son!

Stephanie stood wide-eyed, taking in the fine ambiance, and I could see that she was very impressed. She was impeccably dressed for _Rosa's_, and I noticed several men at the bar give her interested looks. I glared at them as Stephanie turned her cashmere wrap in to the coat check girl and received a ticket in return. She noticed me, and grinned.

"Relax, Superman! No need to go caveman here: I'm not interested in anyone but you!"

"Good to know, Babe." I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her closer, irregardless. I wanted to send a message to any man there that she was taken. She was _mine_!

"If I were a different sort of woman, I'd be insulted by this primitive male display of testosterone, you know."

"But you're not bothered at all?"

"Hell no, I'm turned on! Majorly. I told you: I'm not any ordinary woman."

"No, you're sure as hell not. You're unique, in a class all your own. And you're the most beautiful woman here, Steph. By far. No one can take their eyes off you--especially me."

She smiled indulgently, leaning in to give me a soft kiss, "You're biased, but that's okay: keep talking, Carlos. I love to hear it!"

I looked over Steph's shoulder, and caught Mateo's eye. He was standing at the bar, waiting impatiently for his cue. I gave an imperceptible nod, and he strode determinedly towards us.

"Carlos! Carlos! It _is_ you! Good to see you, buddy!"

I stepped away from Stephanie long enough to give Mat a quick handshake. "Mat! Good to see you, too! How're you doing?"

Steph whirled around and examined my cousin, who was taking her measure in turn. Mat was just about my height, but nowhere near as muscular as I was. He had short black hair and brown eyes, with caramel-colored skin. He was Alex's age, 28, making him two years older than I was. Although he was my mother's nephew, he bore little resemblance to her. Instead, he looked almost identical to his late father, Luis Herrera. There was no way for Stephanie to guess we were cousins unless we volunteered the information--and neither of us intended to do that. Not _tonight_, anyway.

He smiled at Steph, and then looked at me quizzically. "Are you going to introduce me to this lovely lady? Or keep her identity all to yourself, you lucky man?"

"Stephanie, this is a very good friend of mine, Mateo Herrera. Mat, this is the woman I love, Stephanie Plum."

Stephanie looked surprised at my introduction, her blue eyes widening, then she flushed beautifully and took Mateo's offered hand. To her obvious delight, Mat raised her hand to his lips and gave it a gallant kiss. "My pleasure, Ms. Plum. I can't tell you how happy I am to see that some woman has corralled my wayward friend--finally. And such a beautiful woman, as well."

"Watch it, Mat," I growled, teasingly. "She's taken--and you're married. Back off Stephanie or I'll call Lucia."

Steph giggled, "Nice to meet you--may I call you Mateo? I'm Stephanie. Or just plain Steph."

"Steph, maybe," Mateo continued, "But not _plain_. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Yes, please call me Mateo."

"That's it," I warned, "I'm calling Lucia on your ass."

"Carlos is the possessive type where I'm concerned," Steph grinned, taking my hand. "And I love it. Of course he has no reason to be jealous: I'm the lucky one here."

"We have to agree to disagree about that," I insisted, winning another giggle from my Babe. "So, Mat, what are you doing here, having dinner or just drinking?"

"Business, I'm afraid. I was meeting a client," he lied, "But the meeting's over now, so I was just heading out. Unless I can buy you two a drink, that is?"

"I'd like that, Mat. But it's up to Steph. Babe?"

"Do we have time? I'd like to--but I don't want to miss our reservations, Carlos."

"No problem. We've got time, Babe: our reservations aren't until 8:15. Let's go inside and order our drinks, shall we?" I led us into the bar, Steph still walking hand in hand with me, and Mat following us.

Steph took her place on a wooden chair, setting her black purse on the bar and crossing her long gorgeous legs. The bartender hurried over to take our order, giving her an appreciative smile--one which froze on his face as I sent him a warning glare.

"What can I get for you, Senorita? Senor? Senor Herrera?"

"Stephanie?" Mat asked, "What are you having tonight?"

She bit her lip thoughtfully, "I think I'll try a Mojito, please."

"Uh…Babe?" I whispered, "You had champagne earlier, remember? Do you think it's a good idea to mix your drinks?"

"I just had a little bit of champagne," she insisted, "I'll be fine, Carlos. I'm going to go Cuban tonight. Cuban food. Cuban music. Cuban drink. Cuban man." She grinned wickedly. "Got a problem with that, Superman?"

"It's _your_ headache," I warned her solemnly, ignoring the tongue she stuck out at me playfully. "I'll have a Scotch. Neat."

"Same for me," Mateo said quietly. "So, tell me, Steph: how long have you and Carlos known each other?"

Steph looked like a deer caught in the headlights, looking to me for the proper answer.

"Long enough to know we're meant to spend the rest of our lives together," I answered firmly, giving Stephanie a quick wink. "I'm shipping out Monday, but when I come back, Steph's agreed to be Mrs. Carlos Manoso. Haven't you, Steph?"

Now it was Mateo's turn to look stunned. He opened his mouth to say something, but I interrupted again. "We're keeping it quiet for now, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention it to anyone."

"You can count on me." Mat looked uncomfortable, "I'm the soul of discretion. Remember, I'm your attorney, Carlos. I can't say anything: lawyer/client confidentiality, right?"

Stephanie ignored her Mojito, which had appeared in front of her only moments earlier, "You're a lawyer, Mateo?"

"Guilty as charged, Steph," Mateo laughed.

"But he's a good friend, irregardless," I teased. "Expensive at times, but worth every penny."

"Can I ask you a legal question?" Stephanie asked, "I mean, just a basic one."

"Sure," Mat replied, obviously puzzled.

So was I. What legal issue did Steph have that she hadn't mentioned to me earlier?

"If you witness something--_sign it_--that makes it legal, right? If you witness it in your capacity as a lawyer, I mean?"

"Depends on what it is," Mat hedged uncertainly.

"_Babe_?" I looked to Steph for an explanation.

Steph took a deep breath, then reached for her purse, pulling out an envelope and taking out the paper inside. "I'd like you to witness _this_, if you would. As Carlos' attorney. If he's okay with it, that is." She looked to me for agreement.

"I don't understand." And I didn't. I was totally lost.

"I have something important that I want to read to you, and sign in front of you. And I want Mateo to witness it as your lawyer, so it's legal and binding on me."

"What is it?" I reached for the paper, but Stephanie shook her head determinedly.

"I have to read it to you, Carlos," she insisted, "It's important to me."

Mateo gave me a warning look; he probably figured it had something to do with my money. I knew damned well it _didn't_, but I didn't argue with him. I was too busy trying to figure out what the hell Steph had in her hands.

"You have to read it to me?"

"Yes. Is that okay with you?"

"If you have to read it, Babe, go ahead. You know that whatever it is, you can tell me and I'll be fine with it."

She smiled, shaking her head, "Not that kind of thing, Superman. It's a good surprise, not a bad one." Steph looked back and forth at Mat and me and sighed, "I have you both thinking I have some deep dark secret, don't I? Well, I don't. I mean--that's not what this is. I--God, this sounded like such a good idea when I thought of it. Now it seems _dorky_."

"What's dorky? Steph, what's going on?"

"You know I went to Stella and Patrick's wedding yesterday, right?"

I nodded, not seeing what the hell that had to do with anything.

"I got the idea from them. Not _from_ them…I mean, it wasn't _their_ idea. It was mine. Completely. I didn't talk to either of them about it. I just--I thought of it because they signed a Ketubah." She looked at Mateo, "They're Jewish. Well, Stella is. My friend Stella. From work. I'm a lingerie buyer at EE Martin on Broad Street. Not that it has anything to do with anything, but that's where I know Stella from. And she's Jewish. Patrick is Catholic, but he signed the Ketubah anyway. It's a Jewish tradition."

Mateo and I both stared at her, open-mouthed. She was rambling now and neither one of us had a clue what she was talking about.

"I loved the idea of it. The tradition of it, I mean. Putting what you feel in words. Legally binding. So I wrote one myself. For you. For _us_, I mean. When you went out to get McDonald's for me yesterday, after the wedding. When I was hungry. Remember?"

I nodded, not knowing what else to do or say.

"So when we were at Peddler's Village today I got special paper in the stationary store, and I recopied it. To make it _special_, I mean. Decorative. Like the one Stella and Patrick had. But they had a Tree of Life on theirs, not _The Wizard of Oz_. I mean, _The Wizard of Oz_…" she looked at me, "means nothing to _them_. But you know what it means to _us_."

I nodded more positively now. I was beginning to follow Steph's jumbled thoughts. "You wrote this Ketubah on _The Wizard of Oz _paper you picked out today, and you want to read it to me now?"

She smiled radiantly, "Yes! _Exactly_!"

"And you want Mat to witness it as my attorney?"

"Yes! To make it _legal_!" She furrowed her brow and addressed Mateo, "I didn't bring any cash with me tonight, so I can't give you anything as a retainer to act as my attorney. If I could even _afford _you, which I'm pretty sure I _can't_. Not even for a minute's worth of time. If you even _charge_ by the minute, which clearly you _don't_. That's not how lawyers do things, even _I_ know _that_. But if you're _Carlos'_ lawyer, then you'd be acting in _his_ interest, so even if I _had_ money with me and _could_ afford it, it would be a conflict of interest to ask you to be _my _lawyer, even to witness this, which isn't anything that will obligate Carlos to do anything but be Carlos. _Right_?"

Mateo just looked at me, clearly defeated. "What did she just say?"

"She wants you to witness her signature on this document, Mat."

He looked to her in confirmation.

Steph nodded, "Please?"

He sighed, then nodded agreement. "Go ahead, read it and I'll sign as witness." He took out a pen from his jacket pocket and placed it on the bar.

She gave him a quick smile, then looked over to me and cleared her throat before she began to read in a firm, determined voice:

"_My Beloved Ricardo Carlos Manoso_:

_Who would I be without you in my life? Without you, I can stand on my own. But with you by my side, I stand taller, more self-assured, with a deeper confidence in myself than I would ever have without your faith in me. Without you, I live and draw breath. I exist. But with you as my beloved, my life has deeper meaning, my years are filled with great joy, and my days have a true happiness such as I have never known. Without you, I am a good person. But with your love, I am better than I knew possible, and I am inspired to grow stronger and deeper and more caring each day. I did not know that I could love anyone this deeply; but now, with you in my life, I do not know how not__to love with all that I am. I cannot express how much I love you in only a few simple words. You are the sun in my days and the moon in my darkest nights. You are truth and beauty itself, and you give me a joy such as I have never known. I believe in you, I trust in you, and I have faith that you will always be there for me, as I will always be there for you. You are my hero, you are my lover, and you are my best friend. I pledge myself completely to you today and for all of my tomorrows. I will stand proudly by your side always, in times of joy and times of sorrow. I will try to always be understanding and forgiving, and ask the same of you in return. You are always in my thoughts and my dreams. I give myself to you and take you to myself as my one true love for as long as we both shall live. I will wait for you no matter how long it takes. Never give up, no matter how dark things are. Just follow the yellow brick road home to me, and let me take you into my arms so that we can start our new life together! I love you now and always. My commitment to you, and yours to me, binds us together and seals this document. _

_Your Ever-Faithful Babe,_

_Stephanie Michelle Plum_

_October 5, 2008_

_Witnessed By:___________________________ _

She finished reading, and by that point all three of us had tears in our eyes. She solemnly took the pen and signed her name, then pushed the document to Mateo for his signature as Witness. He signed without looking up, and I could see him blinking his eyes to hide the tearing that I'd seen. I tried to discreetly brush my eyes. Steph herself was blinking and muttering under her breath as she held her finger under her eye--evidently to protect her makeup. It wasn't necessary: she'd never looked more beautiful to me.

Regardless of who was watching, I pulled her to me and gave her a passionate kiss. I felt her respond, and for a moment, we were the only two in the world. When I broke the kiss a moment or so later, we were both breathing heavily.

"It's _beautiful_, Babe. I don't know what else to say. I love you. I always will. And I promise I'll be back as soon as I can."

"I wanted you to have this to take with you," she explained, brushing the lipstick off my mouth with her fingers. "I know you're going to be having some really long and lonely days--and nights--while you're away. Some horrific times. Times when you'll need something to remind you of what you have to live for. What's waiting at home for you. To give you hope. So I wanted to give you this to keep with you." She held up her right hand, "You gave me _this_--a promise ring--as your promise you'll come back to me."

I saw Mat's eyes go to her right hand, examining the opal ring, which shimmered in iridescent glory in the restaurant's dim lighting.

"So I want you to think of this as _my_ promise to _you_ that I'll be waiting for you when you come back. No matter what. No matter how long it takes. I'll be here and I'll be waiting patiently for you, Carlos. Because I love you. And because you're the only man I want to be with for the rest of my life." Her voice was low, but her words were passionate and determined.

I took the document solemnly and read it over again, still reeling from the surprise of it, and processing the powerful words she'd used to document her love for me. I felt like the proudest man on earth. And the luckiest. I was completely undone, and I didn't give a damn who knew it. I knew then that Stephanie understood my inner insecurities: insecurities that I never permitted anyone to see--except her. She knew the real me, and she loved me without reservation. Without condition.

"It's legal now, right?" she asked Mateo. He nodded, still unable to form words. "So you're stuck with me, from now on, Carlos."

I smiled, pulling her to me again in a loving embrace. "That works for me, Babe. I can't imagine anything that would make me happier than to be legally bound to you for life."

"Let's drink to that, shall we?" Mat asked, holding his whiskey aloft, in a toast. "To the happy couple. All the best to you both, Stephanie and Carlos. May you have many long and happy years together."

We clinked glasses at my Babe's insistence, and took a drink. Steph coughed at the strength of the Mojito, and I laughed at her cross-eyed look.

"Too strong for you, Babe?"

"It's perfectly fine, thank you very much," she insisted, sipping again, "I like my drinks strong. Just like I like my men."

"You mean, your man."

"My _men_: you and Rex."

I laughed at Mateo's shocked expression. "Rex is Steph's hamster."

He looked relieved. "You like animals, Steph?"

"Yeah, one day I'd like a dog. But for now, I'm a proud hamster mommy. Do you have animals, Mateo?"

"Yeah, we--my wife and three kids--we have a dog. Mixed breed. Her name is Midnight. She's a good dog."

"Well, one of these days I'd like to be a doggy mommy. If Carlos is okay with it," Steph looked to me. "We never discussed it, but--"

"Fine with me, Babe. I like dogs."

She smiled, "See, one more thing we have in common."

I'd folded the precious paper and put it into my jacket pocket, next to my heart. Every time I thought of it, I felt my heart soar and a silly grin form on my face. Only Steph would think of something that romantic! She was one in a billion, for sure. And she was all mine!

We made small talk for a bit longer while we finished our drinks, but from the look Mat had given me, I had no doubt at all that he'd been converted by Steph and was now firmly on her side. I knew he'd look after her interests, as I'd asked him to. And I knew he understood now why I'd fallen head over heels in such a short time.

"If you'll excuse us, Mat, we've got reservations for dinner. And I've promised my Babe plenty of dancing tonight to celebrate."

Mat smiled, "Have a lovely evening, you two. Steph, a true pleasure to meet you. I mean that in every way. Carlos is a very lucky man, and that's my considered legal opinion. No charge for it, either."

She smiled, "It was nice to meet you, Mateo. Thank you for witnessing the contract for me. For us, I mean. For Carlos."

"De nada. Carlos, you take good care of yourself while you're gone. Don't give this lovely lady anything to worry about, you hear me?"

"I hear you. Say hi to Lucia and give the kids a kiss. Thanks for the drink."

"Yes, Mateo," Steph added, "Thank you so much!"

"My pleasure."

As Steph and I turned to make our way over to our table, which we'd been told was now ready, I looked over at Mat. He gave me a 'thumbs up' and nodded. I mouthed, 'I told you so,' and got a pained expression in return.

We followed the hostess to our table, and Steph took in the room in wide-eyed excitement. A talented brunette was singing _The Rhythm Is Gonna Get You_, and the dance floor was full of couples salsa dancing_**. **_

"This is just incredible. I love it here!" I held her chair for her, and Stephanie sat down, still beaming, as the hostess placed the menus on the table and wished us a pleasant evening. "You said you know how to dance, right?"

"I did--and I do."

"Salsa dance?"

"I'm Cuban, Babe. Of course I do. Do you?"

"Yes, I sure do! Mary Lou--my best friend from the Burg--and I took dancing lessons a while back. We did it as exercise, instead of aerobic classes, which are beyond boring. So I haven't done a lot of it, but yeah, I can dance the salsa, all right."

I smiled, "Well, then you and I have a full night of dancing ahead of us, Babe. I can't wait to get you into my arms. Especially after what you did in there."

"I wanted to surprise you, Carlos. To give you something special to let you know how much I love you."

"You did, Steph. It was--it _is_--the most touching thing--the most beautiful thing anyone's ever given me. _Thank you_, Babe."

"I love you--I just wanted to put it in writing. Can you take it with you where you're going?"

"Yes, that and the St. Michael's medal. I'll keep them both with me and I'll think of you."

"I'm glad."

"Carlos! So good to have you joining us tonight." I took a deep breath, recognizing my father's deep voice. I looked over to find him examining Stephanie carefully. "And who is your lovely companion this evening?"

"This is Stephanie." I deliberately omitted her last name from the introduction. No way was I giving him the opportunity to know that she was _Plum_, not _Mazur_! "Stephanie, this is--" _Shit! I hadn't thought this far! _Stephanie knew my father's name was Ricardo. How could I introduce my father to her tonight and not have her question the coincidence? "This is--"

"I'm Papa."

I whipped my head around in disbelief. _He_ _hadn't said that_! He'd broken his word to me!

"Call me _Papa_, Estefanía. Carlos does."

"_Everyone _does," I interjected, saving the day, giving him a withering glance while Stephanie was looking the other way. "Papa owns _Rosa's_, Babe."

Steph gave him a blinding smile, "You do? It's nice to meet you--Papa. What a beautiful place you have here. You must be very proud of it."

My father beamed, "I am indeed. _Rosa's_ has been a family business for over 60 years! My esteemed Papa started _Rosa's_ when he came to this great country from Cuba, and he named it after his lovely bride, my dear Mama. I trained by his side as the executive chef, and after his death, I took over management of _Rosa's_. And I will pass the mantle on to my beloved son Alejandro when I am ready to retire. He is now the executive chef of _Rosa's_." My father gave me a smug smile. He was so enjoying this! "Don't you agree with me, Estefanía, that a man should pass his business to his sons, and that any son should be proud to step into his father's shoes?" The bastard waited for Stephanie to agree with him in front of me!

"That all depends," Stephanie said quietly.

"_Excuse me_?" My father couldn't believe his ears. "Depends on _what_?"

"On the son, of course. Not all sons are suited to take over a family business, Papa. Some sons have different dreams than their fathers."

"That matters not, my dear. It is a son's _duty_ to his family to step into his father's shoes and carry the dream on to a new generation."

"Ah, but whose dream are we talking about, Papa?" Steph asked softly, "A father's dream? Or a son's?"

"They should be one and the same," my father maintained.

"Sadly, many times they are not," my Babe said quietly. I had no doubt she was talking about herself as well as about me. "To follow one's own dream does not mean that a child loves a parent any less. It simply means that they've found a different way to fly. Don't you agree with the old saying, Papa: '_Find a job you love, and you'll never work a day in your life_.'?"

"I have not heard that saying, Estefanía. I believe a son owes a duty to a father. To neglect that duty is to bring shame upon the son." He looked at me challengingly.

"Then you disagree with Shakespeare's sage advice, Papa? Remember? _'To thine own self be true; and it must follow as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.' _If a son is to be true to himself, it may be that he must disappoint his father by going another way. It should not bring shame on him for doing so--he is to be commended, I think, for recognizing the truth in his heart and following his dream. Certainly any father who loves his son would want his son to learn to fly, don't you agree?" Steph gave him a pretty smile, and for a moment my father was speechless.

I found myself smiling again. "How is Alejandro, Papa?" I took the opportunity to change the subject. "If he has the time, I'd like him to meet Stephanie."

"I will tell him, Carlos. I know he will want to meet your lovely guest." His eyes met mine, and I refused to look away. After a few minutes, he broke eye contact, and looked at Steph who was speaking excitedly.

"Oh, I'd love to meet him! I can't cook, so I'm envious of anyone who can! Papa? Can I ask your help, please? I'm looking at the menu here, and there are so many things that sound absolutely delicious--I have no idea what to order. I'm not familiar at all with Cuban food, I'm afraid. I know only _Papas Rellenas _and _Empanadas_, which Carlos loves and which I definitely want to try. I see they are listed here as appetizers. But for the entrée, I have no idea what to ask for! What would you recommend, Papa?"

My father began to explain Cuban food to my Babe, and by the time she got through mmmm'ing and ahhhh'ing at one dish after the other, I could see a smile start to form on my father's stern face. There was nothing my father loved to discuss more than food; with Steph, he had an eager pupil. They went through the menu line by line and Stephanie smacked her lips at all of it. Finally, my father suggested that she allow him to design a sampler of all of the dishes in which she'd expressed the most interest. She was ecstatic, and thanked him happily. He looked over at me, openly smiling, and I knew that Steph had made another convert. And this was _before_ he'd seen her eating her food!

"You will have your usual, Carlos?"

"What's his usual, Papa?"

"Carlos always has the _Papas Rellenas _and the _Empanadas _as an appetizer. For the entrée, he always prefers _Paella Valenciana_. It is saffron rice garnished with shrimp, mussels, scallops, Chorizo sausage and chicken, with sweet peas and roasted peppers. Alejandro prepares the dish expertly; does he not, Carlos?"

"He does," I agreed, "Alejandro has a special gift for cooking. I could never have that, no matter how hard I tried. Or how much I might have wanted to."

"But you do _not_ want to, do you?" asked my father.

"No, I do not."

"Alejandro will own _Rosa's _one day. He will have a fine business and a well-respected name. He will be set for life."

"He _already_ has a well-respected name. And he will run the business in a way that will make you very proud…Papa."

"I have no doubt of that, Carlos. None at all. I am very proud of my son…_Alejandro_. Unlike my _other _son, Alejandro will be a success."

I bit my tongue, knowing my father was deliberately trying to get a rise out of me. I wasn't going to give him any excuse to reveal his identity to my Babe, no matter what I had to put up with. Steph had unknowingly diffused my temper earlier; taking my father's barbs against me and turning them back at him.

"You have another son, Papa?" Stephanie couldn't pass up the chance to ask--as my Papa well knew.

"I have, Estefanía. Sadly."

_Damn him! _I kept my face deliberately blank, knowing it would get to him that he had not been able to irritate me.

"_Sadly_? Why? Is he not in the restaurant business?" Stephanie looked at me questioningly.

I shrugged.

"He has no interest in _Rosa's_, I'm afraid. He never comes in. He never asks about the business. He has absolutely no desire to be a part of the family business, Estefanía. He breaks his poor father's heart with his obstinacy."

_Oh for crying out loud! _As if the old bastard even _had _a heart to break! I bit down on my tongue and swore silently.

"I'm sure he has _another_ dream he follows instead, Papa. Perhaps you need to accept that your son has a life of his own, and not expect him to live yours and Alejandro's." Her words were soft, and had no rebuke in them--but they were firm, nonetheless. "There are people out there in the world who are like Carlos and me and your son. We march to our own drum, Papa. It doesn't mean we don't love the band. It merely means that we've found a different instrument to play."

Once again Stephanie had side-stepped the Old Man's trap! I gave him an ear-to-ear smile, surprising him. Then I said what I knew would _guarantee_ that he'd finally leave us the hell alone: "Would you take our order now, Papa? Or would you send over the waitress instead?"

_No way in hell would my father lower himself to do a server's job!_ He gave me a long look, then a small polite smile. "I shall send your server over to you immediately, Carlos. It was a pleasure, Estefanía."

As he disappeared, I took my Babe's hand in mine and squeezed it lovingly, "Proud of you, Babe."

Stephanie smiled, "He's a character, all right. How long have you known him?"

"All my life." I'd answered without thinking. At her questioning look, I smiled, "He's Mateo's uncle, Babe."

"_Omigod! _I had no clue!" Steph was about to say something else, but fortunately the waitress appeared then, and we gave our order.

After she'd left, I forestalled the conversation by pointing out the dancers and asking, "Care to dance, Miss Plum?"

"I thought you'd never ask, Mr. Manoso."

We took to the floor, and in moments we were wrapped in each others' arms, dancing to the sultry strains of _Europe (Earth's Cry, Heaven's Smile). _I held her close and she nestled into me, our bodies fitting perfectly as we swayed to the slow, heady rhythm of the Carlos Santana song.

I could see my father and Mateo having an animated discussion, and it appeared that Mateo was holding his own against whatever my father was saying. I guessed that the Old Man was doing his usual 'Carlos shames me' bit, as he had for Steph. Would he never learn another routine? Clearly not. But with Steph on my side and in my arms, I no longer cared. I was too busy thanking God for my good fortune to feel bad.

The music ended, and the male singer strode to the microphone and began to sing the

Enrique Iglesias song, _Bailamos_. The dancers quickened their step, and we moved with them, Steph and I fitting perfectly together. She hadn't been exaggerating when she'd told me she knew how to dance. Her body was limber and graceful, and I saw other couples moving to the side to allow us the spotlight.

_Tonight we dance _

_I lay my life in your hands _

_We take the floor _

_Nothing is forbidden anymore _

_Don't let the world in outside _

_Don't let the moment go by _

_Nothing can stop us tonight _

_Bailamos,let the rhythm take you over _

_Bailamos _

_Te quiero amor mio, bailamos _

_Gonna live this night forever _

_Bailamos _

_Te quiero amor mio, te quiero _

_Tonight I'm yours _

_We can make it happen I'm so sure _

_Now I'm letting go _

_There is something I think you should know _

_I won't be leaving your side _

_We're gonna dance through the night _

_I'm gonna reach for the stars _

_(repeat 1) _

_(whoa, oh oh oh) Tonight we dance _

_(whoa, oh oh oh) Like no tomorrow _

_(whoa oh oh oh) If you will stay with me _

_Te quiero, mi amor _

_Quedate conmigo, esta noche _

_Quedate mi cielo _

_(repeat 1, 1...COMO TE QUIERO )_

By the time the song finished, Steph was flushed and her eyes were sparkling. I leaned in to give her a quick kiss, and pulled her off the floor. "Our appetizers are here, Babe. I know you love to dance. But I know you'd rather eat."

"You ain't lyin', Superman," she giggled. "I'm sooooo hungry!"

"You have a real treat in store for you, you've never tasted anything like these _Papas Rellenas_. I could eat them like popcorn."

Stephanie was a definite fan after she'd had the opportunity to taste them, and ate with a gusto that amused me. She also enjoyed the _Empanadas_, and her smile was broad as she dug into her food. "Delicious! I absolutely love them! I'm a convert, Carlos! These are just yummy!"

"Glad you like them, Babe."

"_Like _them? I _love_ them! I told you, anything fried wins points with me. I knew I was going to like them before I even tried them. But these are even better than I expected them to be!"

We finished the course, and took to the dance floor again. We had several slow dances, to _Falling In Love_; _Love Is All _and _My Baby You_. I softly began to sing the latter song to Stephanie, my Babe, changing the last line's lyrics to reference her.

_Falling In Love (Gloria Estefan)_

_Love Is All (Marc Anthony)_

_My Baby You (Marc Anthony)_

_As I look into your eyes_

_I see all the reasons why_

_My life's worth a thousand skies_

_You're the simplest love I've known_

_And the purest one of all_

_Know you'll never be alone_

_Chorus:My baby you_

_Are the reason I could fly_

_And 'cause of you_

_I don't have to wonder why_

_Baby you_

_There's no more just getting by_

_You're the reason I feel so alive._

_Though these words I sing are true_

_They still fail to capture you_

_As mere words can only do_

_How do I explain that smile?_

_And how it turns my world around_

_Keeping my feet on the ground_

_Repeat Chorus_

_I will soothe you if you fall_

_I'll be right there if you call_

_You're my greatest love of all_

_You are the reason I could fly _

_And 'cause of you I don't have to wonder why_

_My baby you _

_There's no more just getting by_

_'Cause you're the reason I feel so alive_

_My dearest Babe I feel so alive_

I felt Steph's arms tighten around me as I sang to her, and I held her even closer. As the strains of the song faded away, I whispered, "I love you, Stephanie."

"I love you, too, Carlos. That was the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for me. You have a beautiful voice."

"Thanks, Babe. You inspire me. To do a lot of things."

I saw our server bringing our entrees, and we made our way off the dance floor hand in hand. Helping Steph with her chair, I tucked a stray curl behind her ear and leaned in to drop a soft kiss on her shoulder blade.

"What do you have there? You realize you made a conquest with Papa, don't you? He never makes up a special plate for anyone."

Stephanie grinned, "I couldn't make up my mind. I saw at least half a dozen things that looked really delicious. I've got enough food here to last me for a week, Carlos! I'd say I couldn't eat it all--but you know I'd be lying."

I laughed. Steph had the best appetite of any woman I'd ever met; how the hell she managed to keep her gorgeous figure I had no clue. "Let's see. That's _Ropa Vieja_--shredded beef in a light tomato Cuban Creole sauce with onions and peppers. And that's _Camarones al Ajillo_--shrimp sautéed in Cuban garlic sauce. And _Lechon Asado_--traditional Cuban-style roasted pork with sweet plantains. And what you're enjoying now is _Croquetas de Jamon_--ham croquettes. And finally, you have a little bit of _Chicharonnes de Pollo_--lightly floured and deep fried chicken bites marinated in Cuban mojo."

"MMMMMMMMM," came the low moan. "It's soooooo gooooood."

I grinned: Stephanie was having the time of her life. Eating was, to her, akin to a religious experience. I looked over to see my father and brother watching her intently from the corner of the room. They weren't the only ones: several of our fellow patrons had turned in amusement to enjoy her vociferous attempts to make her way through the plate of food.

She was almost done when Alejandro made his way over to our table. My brother was two inches shorter than I, with curly brown hair and dark brown eyes. His features were almost identical to my father's, and Stephanie recognized in an instant who he had to be. Well, that and the chef's uniform gave him away!

"Hey, Carlos! Good to see you!"

"Alejandro! How are you?"

My brother looked at me in puzzlement: I _never_ called him Alejandro; I always called him Alex. But I'd told Steph that my brother's name was Alex. No way was I tempting Fate by calling him that! I didn't know if she knew Alejandro meant Alexander in Spanish, but she hadn't mentioned it before when my father mentioned him, so I stuck to his formal name. "I'm fine. I understand we have a new devotee to Cuban food?"

"This is Stephanie; Steph, this is--"

"_Alejandro!_ I'd know you anywhere! You're the spitting image of your father!" She held out her hand and Alex shook it, giving her a big smile. He'd noticed that she'd cleaned her plate. That was the biggest complement of all, to him.

"Everyone tells me that," he agreed, "So, you've decided you like Cuban food, Stephanie?"

"You are so talented," she bubbled, winning a hearty laugh from my brother, "I couldn't cook this well if my life depended on it. Happily for everyone, it _doesn't_. I don't know which was the tastiest thing on the plate. I just loved it all! It's all just absolutely _scrumptious_!"

"Thank you, Stephanie, you've made me a very happy man. Carlos, did you enjoy your food?"

"Delicious, Alejandro. You've outdone yourself yet again. I haven't had _Paella Valenciana _in years. It was even better than I remembered. You look well."

"So do you. I see you've been burning up the dance floor."

"With a partner as gorgeous as Stephanie, can you blame me?"

Alex smiled, "Not in the least. You make a stunning couple. You fit well together. I understand Stephanie made a conquest of Mateo, as well. And Papa was even singing her praises, believe it or not. '_She isn't Cuban, but she has a real passion for life_.'"

"Thank you," I said, recognizing my brother's secret meaning. "How is the family?"

"Doing well. You missed my sister Celia's son Tomas. He is a bus boy here. We gave him the evening off, unfortunately."

Again, a hidden meaning: Papa and Alex had given Tomas the night off because otherwise my nephew would blab his head off to my sister Celia about Steph and me, and too many questions would be asked.

I pretended to be disappointed, "Oh, too bad. Another time, I hope. She is well?"

"As she always is," came the reply. In other words, _she was asking questions_. Well, it was best that Tomas was not around to give her any information.

"You are saving room for dessert, I hope?" Alex asked Stephanie.

She grinned, "I _always_ save room for dessert. What do you recommend, Alejandro? The more decadent the better."

"She means it," I told him, laughing. "We're going to need to do a lot of dancing to get those extra calories off, Babe."

"Do you hear me complaining?" she said, giggling. "I could dance with you all night long and still want more."

"I think someone wrote a song using those lyrics," I teased her. "But he wasn't Cuban."

Alex looked at me, then back at Steph. I could tell he'd never seen me as relaxed as I was when I was with my Babe. "If you're looking for decadent, Stephanie, you should try the _Tres Leches_. It's Three Milk Cake. It's a mixture of sweetened condensed milk, evaporated milk and heavy cream, poured over cake until it's dripping. Then the cake is topped with meringue frosting and a cherry. Carlos usually has the flan, don't you?"

"I do," I agreed. "They have delicious flan. Several different types: _Flan de Leche_, the traditional Cuban style custard topped with caramel; _Flan de Queso_, made with smooth cream cheese and topped with caramel; _Flan de Coco_, made with coconut milk and topped with grated coconut and caramel; and _Flan de Guayaba y Queso_, custard with guava and cheese."

"Omigod! They all sound good, but I'm going to take Alejandro's recommendation and try the _Tres Leches_."

"And I'll do the _Flan de Leche_."

Alex nodded, "I'll tell your server. Are you going to have the _Café Cubano_?"

I nodded, "Steph? Coffee? Or would you prefer something else?"

"Do you have _Cappuccino_?"

Alex smiled, "We do. I'll give the server your order. Carlos, good to see you again. And Steph: a true pleasure. I hope you'll come in again sometime."

"Would you care to dance while we wait for our dessert, Steph?"

She grinned wickedly, "I'm so ready to be in your arms, you have no idea."

I stood and helped her out of her chair and we walked hand in hand to the dance floor. The song was Jennifer Lopez' _Forever_, and we effortlessly came together, moving smoothly as one.

_You can stop the clock, that wouldn't be time enough_

_You could let the light turn to morning_

_I still would be wanting more of your love_

_It just ain't enough days in a week_

_Weeks in a month_

_Months in a year_

_How can I make it clear_

_(I wanna be with you)_

_I wanna be with you_

_(And feel the heat with you)_

_And feel the heat with you_

_(I'm flying)(I'm weightless)_

_I'm floating in the distance_

_(Don't rush it, be patient)_

_I'm gonna stop the hands of time I will_

_Follow me, follow me, follow me, follow me, follow me_

_If it feels like this it's gotta be right_

_Follow me, follow me, follow me, follow me, follow me_

_Don't let it be over tonight, over tonight_

_Follow me, follow me, follow me, follow me, follow me_

_If it feels like this it's gotta be right_

_Let's do it forever_

_We could do it forever_

_I could do this forever_

_I could do this forever_

_Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever_

_Give me all your life_

_And I'd ask you for even more_

_You can't offer me a part of your body_

_Because honestly_

_It's just not enough anymore_

_Let's get lost in the moment_

_You know you want it_

_What you waiting for?_

_(I wanna be with you)_

_I wanna be with you_

_(And feel the heat with you)_

_And feel the heat with you_

_(I'm flying)(I'm weightless)_

_I'm floating in the distance_

_(Don't rush it, be patient)_

_I'm gonna stop the hands of time I will_

_Follow me, follow me, follow me, follow me, follow me_

_If it feels like this it's gotta be right_

_Follow me, follow me, follow me, follow me, follow me_

_Don't let it be over tonight, over tonight_

_Follow me, follow me, follow me, follow me, follow me_

_If it feels like this it's gotta be right_

_Let's do it forever_

_We could do it forever_

_I could do this forever_

_I could do this forever_

_Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever_

_Can you tell me what it is_

_You're waiting for?_

_Can you tell me what it is_

_'Cause I don't know_

_(Let's go)_

_Come on baby just take my hand_

_(Let's go)_

_Why you lookin' like you don't understand_

_(Let's go)_

_That's it, I'm gonna make this easy_

_(Let's go)_

_And that ain't me, believe me_

_But just...Follow me, follow me, follow me, follow me, follow me_

_If it feels like this it's gotta be right_

_Follow me, follow me, follow me, follow me, follow me_

_Don't let it be over tonight, over tonight_

_Follow me, follow me, follow me, follow me, follow me_

_If it feels like this it's gotta be right_

_Let's do it forever_

_We could do it forever_

_I could do this forever_

_I could do this forever_

_Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever Forever_

_Let's go_

_Forever...Let's go_

_Forever...Let's go _

I could have danced with Steph to that song forever, holding time at bay, feeling her lush body molded to mine while we glided across the floor. The music changed finally to Marc Anthony's song _You Sang To Me_, and the romantic mood continued as we slid seamlessly into another dance. We moved as one, as if we'd been dancing together for all of our lives. I saw my father watching me, a look on his face I couldn't identify. Then I turned my attention back to Stephanie, and was lost again in the music and the dance and the moment. I'd never enjoyed dancing as much as I did with Steph, and I knew from her soft moans that she felt the same way about dancing with me.

"Babe, our desserts are on the table," I whispered at the end of the dance.

"_Tres Leches_," she smiled, "Decadent dessert, yes?"

"Very decadent, Babe. Enough even for you."

"That's the only reason I'm getting off the dance floor, then. Otherwise--"

"We can dance more after dessert, Babe, I promise."

She nodded, "I'll hold you to it, Superman. I want more from you on the dance floor. A lot more."

I wrapped my arm around her waist and led her back to the table, pulling her chair out so she could sit comfortably.

We both enjoyed our dessert and coffee. We made small talk about the last time I'd been to the restaurant and I promised Steph I'd bring her back here again once I returned from my mission. She declared this Our Restaurant, and I didn't argue. As we were finishing our dessert, my father made another appearance at our table.

"Estefanía, Carlos. Did you enjoy your meal?"

"Very much, Papa."

"It was absolutely scrumptious, Papa! I've never tasted anything more delicious! The food platter you designed for me was yummy and I ate everything and loved it all! Thank you so much for doing that for me!"

My father was beaming, "You are very welcome, beautiful lady. I am so pleased that you enjoyed Alejandro's food. I will tell him that you have also cleaned your dessert plate, he will be pleased to know that you liked his Tres Leches cake."

"It was mouth-watering," she agreed, "And Carlos loved his Flan de Leche, too."

"Carlos always loved Flan," my father nodded, giving me a quick look.

I nodded. It was true: it was my one weakness for dessert.

"Carlos, Mateo tells me you are leaving on duty for some time. I have come to wish you well."

I looked up, surprised. There was a tone to my father's voice I hadn't heard before. It almost sounded as if he cared.

"Thank you," I said carefully. "I appreciate that, Papa."

"I will keep you in my thoughts until you return. You must bring your lovely Estefanía in here again upon your return. It will be my pleasure then to serve you a very special Welcome Home meal."

Stephanie gave him a big smile, and I nodded, too surprised even to form words. I gathered this was all for Steph's benefit. But for a moment, I pretended it was heart-felt, and I was surprised to realize it felt good.

As my father walked away, the music changed and Steph gave a loud gasp. "Omigod! I _love_ this song, Carlos! Can we dance? Please?"

I helped her to her feet and we took the floor as the singers started a duet of the Whitney Houston/Enrique Iglesias song, _Can I Have This Kiss Forever?_

_Over and over I look in your eyes _

_You are all I desire _

_You have captured me _

_I want to hold you _

_I want to be close to you _

_I never want to let go _

_I wish that this night would never end _

_I need to know_

_Could I hold you for a lifetime_

_Could I look into your eyes_

_Could I have this night to share this night together_

_Could I hold you close beside me_

_Could I hold you for all time_

_Could I could I have this kiss forever_

_Could I could I have this kiss forever, forever_

_Over and over I've dreamed of this night_

_Now you're here by my side _

_You are next to me _

_I want to hold you and touch you and taste you_

_And make you want no one but me _

_I wish that this kiss could never end_

_Oh baby please_

_Could I hold you for a lifetime_

_Could I look into your eyes_

_Could I have this night to share this night together_

_Could I hold you close beside me_

_Could I hold you for all time_

_Could I could I have this kiss forever_

_Could I could I have this kiss forever, forever_

_I don't want any night to go by_

_Without you by my side _

_I just want all my days_

_Spent being next to you_

_Lived for just loving you_

_And baby, oh by the way_

_Could I hold you for a lifetime_

_Could I look into your eyes_

_Could I have this night to share this night together_

_Could I hold you close beside me_

_Could I hold you for all time_

_Could I could I have this kiss forever_

_Could I could I have this kiss forever, forever_

I felt Steph melt into my arms and we moved as one, the words of the song resonating with both of us. I'd heard the song before, but it hadn't meant anything to me until now. But from this moment on, I would think of it as _Our Song_. I whispered as much to Steph, and she nodded. We held on tightly to each other, swaying as the music soared around us. She moved so gracefully that we all but floated across the dance floor. Finally, the song came to an end, and we stood immobile waiting for the next song. I couldn't bear to let her out of my arms, and I knew she felt the same about me. Moments later, the next duet started, a song I'd never heard before, but one that Steph told me was the theme from one of the _Zorro_ films with Antonio Banderas. She giggled as she mentioned it, and I gave her a mock-stern look. "Do I look like _Zorro_ to you?"

"Actually, now that you mention it…."

"Don't go there, Babe."

_I Want To Spend My Lifetime Loving You (Marc Anthony and Tina Arena)_

_Moon so bright, night so fine_

_Keep your heart here with mine_

_Life's a dream we are dreaming_

_Race the moon, catch the wind_

_Ride the night to the end_

_Seize the day, stand up for the light_

_I want to spend my lifetime loving you_

_If that is all in life I ever do_

_Heroes rise, heroes fall_

_Rise again, win it all_

_In your heart, can't you feel the glory?_

_Through our joy, through our pain_

_We can move worlds again_

_Take my hand, dance with me_

_I want to spend my lifetime loving you_

_If that is all in life I ever do_

_I will want nothing else to see me through_

_If I could spend my lifetime loving you_

_Though we know we will never come again_

_When there is love, life begins_

_Over and over again_

_Save the night, save the day_

_Save your love, come what may_

_Love is worth everything we pay_

_I want to spend my lifetime loving you_

_If that is all in life I ever do_

_I want to spend my lifetime loving you_

_If that is all in life I ever do_

_I will want nothing else to see me through_

_If I can spend my life time loving you_

The song was lush and sensual; we moved slowly, enjoying the feel of each other. I sighed, pulling her closer and she tightened her hold on me.

"Steph?"

"MMMMM?"

"Do you want to stay longer? Or can I take you back to the hotel now? I want to make love to you, Babe. I want that more than anything."

"Then let's pay the man and get the hell out of here, Carlos!"

We smiled a secret smile at each other, and left the dance floor hurriedly. I motioned to the server, and within minutes we had our check. I paid the bill, leaving a generous tip, and led Steph to the front door where she presented her claim check and received her wrap.

"How do you say '_I want to kiss you_'?" Steph whispered, as I helped her on with her wrap.

"_Quiero besarle_. And I do. Very much." I nibbled at her earlobe. "Which you well know, Miss Plum."

"How do you say '_I want to undress you slowly_'?" she grinned up at me.

"_Quiero desnudarle despacio_. And I want to do that, too." I gave her a playful hug from behind. "Careful, Babe, you're teasing the Beast. That's dangerous."

"Yes, but I like to live dangerously, as you well know. Well, Carlos? What else do you want to do? Do you want to _hacer la sopa_?" she giggled, enjoying our banter.

"I definitely want to _hacer la sopa_," I assured her, "I want to _hacer la_--"

_Oh, shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit!_

What the hell was _she_ doing here? And why tonight of all nights?

"Carlos? Are you all right? You don't look too well all of a sudden!" Steph asked in a concerned tone of voice, shaking me out of the frozen state I'd found myself in.

I tried my damnedest to slip out the door with my head down, unobserved, dragging Stephanie along behind me. Because, unbelievably, there by the door--where she _had_ to have heard Steph's and my XXX-rated conversation--stood none other than my Abuela Rosa, with one of her lady friends! _Why me? Julio Sanchez' Abuela never overhears him telling his woman he wants to suck her pussy! Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn!_

"Carlos! Take it easy, will you? You're practically yanking my arm out of its socket!" Steph complained irately.

"Sorry," I mumbled, "I'm in a hurry, Babe."

"So I gathered," she replied, "I'm just as horny as you are, Superman, but I can wait until we get into the car. We're still going to do it in the back seat, aren't we? You promised me! And I brought a condom!"

I groaned, hoping we'd made it out of the restaurant before my Abuela had heard Steph's last comments. Frankly, it was a miracle I'd managed to get out without Abuela Rosa recognizing me….

Handing the valet the claim check, I looked around nervously, lest Abuela be facing the front door. "Can you hurry, please?"

"Carlos! It's only been a few minutes! Calm down! Take a chill pill!"

"Yeah, Babe." I arranged my back to the door and closed my eyes, praying to God that He'd get me out of this without discovery.

Moments later, the silver Porsche purred up to the door and the valet climbed out. I handed him a folded bill, and walked around to the driver's seat after helping Steph inside the car. I was so eager to get the hell out of there that I didn't even stop to appreciate the long lush length of leg that Steph showed as she swung into the passenger's seat.

We were pulling away when Steph realized that I was heading out of the parking lot. She protested immediately, and demanded that I circle around to the back of the lot so we could have our appointed assignation. I tried telling her that we'd be better off waiting until we got back to the hotel, but she wasn't to be denied. And after her hand started stroking my thigh, making its way slowly up to my crotch, I found myself so hard that even the thought of my close call wasn't enough to dissuade me from turning the car around before we left the lot.

All of which explains why, some 15 minutes or so later, Steph was straddling me as I sat in the passenger's seat of the car, condom on and cock rock-hard as she rode me like Zorro. I was making about as much noise as she was, and that was one hell of a lot. We'd been fucking ferociously for about 10 minutes, and Steph had already come no less than three times that I could tell. I was getting ready for the grand finale when I made the mistake of opening my eyes--and I damned near died where I sat. There, right in clear sight over Steph's left shoulder, stood none other than Abuela Rosa! And there was no way in hell she hadn't seen me…or heard me.

_Why me? _I repeated to myself, as I exploded into the condom and heard Steph shatter into another explosive orgasm. _Why me? Pablo Sandovar's Abuela never catches him fucking his girlfriend in the parking lot of his family's restaurant. And on a Sunday of all days! _I was soooooooo going down for this one. I watched in stunned silence as Abuela Rosa wagged her gnarly finger at me, then disappeared into the front door of _Rosa's_. _Just shoot me. Shoot me now! _


	43. Chapter 43

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 43

_Ricardo's POV_

The woman wasn't what I expected at all. She didn't seem like the type that would hold my son Carlos' interest. The exotic beauty I had expected to see had not appeared at _Rosa's_ this Sunday night. The _in-your-face _sexuality wasn't there with this young woman.

I wasn't stupid: I knew damned well Carlos had been in combat for the last 18 months; any woman he'd met had to be a one-night-stand he'd picked up in the hotel on Friday night when he'd come in to town. To suddenly declare that he was in love and was naming this mystery woman--this Stephanie Mazur--as the beneficiary of his life insurance and his no-doubt-insignificant bank account, was a bombshell that he had to know would arouse my interest and compel me to demand to meet this woman for myself. And I had.

He'd agreed to bring her to _Rosa's_ for dinner tonight. But then he'd set conditions upon the introduction. She was not to know I was his father. Not to know Alejandro was his brother, or Mateo was his cousin. _It was insulting beyond belief. _I was determined to needle him into revealing our relationship to the woman. It was a plan I was certain would succeed: Carlos, despite his blank face, had an underlying passion that I was sure would be aroused once I trapped the woman into agreeing with me that a son who refuses to step into the family business was a disappointment to his father and should be ashamed of himself for disappointing his family. He would defend himself. Carlos would lose his temper, as he always did when we discussed the subject, and then I would watch him blow his careful little scheme apart by revealing to the woman that he and I were family. It was a perfect strategy on my part!

But things did not go as anticipated. Because the woman was not predictable at all. She was the wild card in all this. I couldn't figure out whether or not she and Carlos were genuinely in love, or if this was some sexual attraction that had taken over his common sense and forced him into declaring his love in order to keep the woman's interest until he left for his next mission. Certainly he did not expect this woman to wait 18 months until he returned from war? The kind of woman who went with a man after only one night, who slept with a man she barely knew--for I had no doubt this was a sexual relationship--would not be without a man for a year and a half. She would pick up another man almost immediately. By the time 18 months had passed and Carlos returned--he _had_ to return; I refused to consider the alternative--she would have had so many men she would have lost count how many there had been. Surely Carlos was savvy enough to realize that? How could my son be so intoxicated by one woman that he would lose his common sense? How could he be so expert at his job as a soldier and yet be taken in by a garden variety tramp? It made no sense to me at all. But then, I hadn't met the woman.

She wasn't what any of us expected. Mateo and Alejandro shared my same reservations and misgivings. We'd had endless talks trying to dissect what was in Carlos' mind, to no avail. But this woman did not fit the mold we'd assigned her. She was anything but the kind of woman one picked for a one-night-stand. Nor was she the type of woman Carlos had been attracted to in the past, during his high school days.

I didn't understand what was happening between the two of them; I was confused, and I was determined to find out what the relationship between Carlos and this mystery woman _really _was. Was it possible that this woman one day was going to be my daughter-in-law? The mother of my grandchildren? Could that really be? Or was this some phase Carlos was going through? Had he deluded himself into thinking he was in love at first sight? Or was this some woman he had sold a bill of goods to, in order to share her bed for a night or two before he shipped off to war? I watched and I listened. And I learned.

I saw them first when they were standing at the bar talking with Mateo, although Carlos had not noticed me watching them: he was too busy looking at his lovely companion. The woman was stunning, yes. But she had a freshness, a wholesomeness that was at odds with the type of woman who would participate in a brief affair. She was more a girl-next-door than a seductive exotic beauty. She wore her heart on her sleeve: I could see the way she looked at Carlos. Not as a meal ticket, but as a woman deeply in love. Adoring. Affectionate. Teasing. Playful. _Playful? _

Carlos was deeply under her spell, that much was obvious. He looked at her as if he worshipped the ground she walked on. His face was free of the strain I always saw on it; he was relaxed and open. Smiling. Teasing the woman. Keeping one hand, one arm, always on her, around her. Watching other men's reactions and warning them off with just a glance. Possessive. Yet trusting her implicitly.

There was open demonstrative affection from my son to this mystery woman. He was proud to be at her side, that much was perfectly clear. He was not ashamed to introduce her to his family. To me, that indicated that he was telling me the truth when he maintained that his hesitation in introducing her to the women was that she would be swept up in the family and smothered with attention by his mother and sister, by my Mama and Tia Carmen. That much I agreed with him was true. It was much safer to keep the knowledge of this woman from my wife and the rest of the females in the Manoso family. They would want the woman welcomed into the family and made much of; it would be more difficult to get rid of her that way. If they did not know of her existence, the woman could be more easily forgotten once Carlos left on his mission. I had no problem agreeing to Carlos' condition that no mention be made of her to anyone but Alejandro, Mateo and myself.

I saw the woman pull a piece of paper out from her purse, and read it to Carlos. _His face. _I watched his face. Normally blank, controlled. But now it was lit with joy. Pride. Tenderness. Passion. Love. My son _loved_ this woman. I had no doubt of it now. How she had managed to win his heart so completely in so short a time I had no clue. But watching him, seeing him without the protective shell he always wrapped around himself, I knew the truth. The woman had won Carlos' heart completely.

But whether he had won hers….that I still needed to discover. She looked at him with love--but had she confused love with lust? Carlos was a fine-looking man; I saw the way women reacted to my son. I knew he could have any woman he wanted with a minimum of effort. The fact that he wanted this _particular_ woman meant there was something special about her that he couldn't find in anyone else. What was it? And what was there about Carlos that had won her heart? Just his looks? If so, that would not last 18 months. Carlos would be doomed to disappointment, were that the case. But if it were _more_….

What was on this paper? I saw the woman sign it, then I watched Mateo sign it as well! I witnessed Carlos pull the woman to him and kiss her with a passion that stunned me. She melted into his arms, and I knew they'd both forgotten anyone else existed for the moment. Then he took the paper, re-read it, and tucked it in his jacket pocket close to his heart. He patted it, as if to reassure himself that it existed. And he smiled the kind of smile I had never before seen on my son's taciturn face. He was not just happy--he was overjoyed. He was deeply in love. I was stunned.

They bade goodbye to Mateo, and were led to their table by the hostess. Carlos carefully seated his lovely companion, and they talked quietly, laughing and smiling. I could wait no longer: I strode over to their table, my eyes riveted to the young woman. Close up, she was even more beautiful than she'd first appeared. There was a radiance about her; she glowed with the confidence of a woman who was loved and knew it. I couldn't take my eyes off her. She was mesmerizing.

"Carlos! So good to have you joining us tonight," I greeted them warmly, "And who is your lovely companion this evening?"

I watched my son take a deep breath before answering. "This is Stephanie. Stephanie, this is--this is--" He hesitated. And I knew why: he couldn't introduce me as _Ricardo Manoso _without her questioning our relationship. He hadn't thought that far in advance!

"I'm Papa." I saw him glare at me, and I ignored him. Whether he knew it or not, I had helped him: by calling myself "Papa" I'd avoided any need for him to give me a name. His secret was safe for the moment. "Call me _Papa_, Estefanía. Carlos does." I watched his face, and saw the hidden anger at what he perceived as my challenge to his grand plan.

"_Everyone _does," Carlos lied. He looked at me, victorious at his score evening our match. "Papa owns _Rosa's_, Babe."

The woman gave me a beautiful smile, "You do? It's nice to meet you--Papa. What a beautiful place you have here. You must be very proud of it."

"I am indeed. _Rosa's_ has been a family business for over 60 years! My esteemed Papa started _Rosa's_ when he came to this great country from Cuba, and he named it after his lovely bride, my dear Mama. I trained by his side as the executive chef, and after his death, I took over management of _Rosa's_. And I will pass the mantle on to my beloved son Alejandro when I am ready to retire. He is now the executive chef of _Rosa's_." I fired my salvo, "Don't you agree with me, Estefanía, that a man should pass his business to his sons, and that any son should be proud to step into his father's shoes?"

I knew that Carlos would hate to hear his own woman agree with me that he'd been wrong in walking away from his family heritage. Yes, it was dangerous for me to bait Carlos like that. But I did it to see if I could get a rise out of him. To get him to admit our relationship, and to free myself from the promise I'd made not to tell her that I was Carlos' father.

"That all depends," the woman said softly.

"_Excuse me_? Depends on _what_?" I hadn't expected that response!

"On the son, of course. Not all sons are suited to take over a family business, Papa. Some sons have different dreams than their fathers."

"That matters not, my dear. It is a son's _duty_ to his family to step into his father's shoes and carry the dream on to a new generation." I saw Carlos' jaw tighten; he was fighting himself not to respond to me. A few more minutes and undoubtedly his control would snap.

"Ah, but whose dream are we talking about, Papa? A father's dream? Or a son's?" came her calm reply.

"They should be one and the same." Certainly she could see that? It was obvious!

"Sadly, many times they are not. To follow one's own dream does not mean that a child loves a parent any less. It simply means that they've found a different way to fly. Don't you agree with the old saying, Papa: '_Find a job you love, and you'll never work a day in your life_.'?"

"I have not heard that saying, Estefanía. I believe a son owes a duty to a father. To neglect that duty is to bring shame upon the son." I pressed the subject, knowing Carlos was rapidly losing his fight to maintain his control.

"Then you disagree with Shakespeare's sage advice, Papa? Remember? _'To thine own self be true; and it must follow as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.' _If a son is to be true to himself, it may be that he must disappoint his father by going another way. It should not bring shame on him for doing so--he is to be commended, I think, for recognizing the truth in his heart and following his dream. Certainly any father who loves his son would want his son to learn to fly, don't you agree?" The woman--Stephanie--smiled, and for the moment I had no words. She was lovely; truly gorgeous. _What beautiful grandchildren I would have!_

Carlos was smiling again by this point. "How is Alejandro, Papa? If he has the time, I'd like him to meet Stephanie."

Sighing, I gave up for the moment my attempt to push him into revealing our relationship. He was back in control firmly--and we both knew it. "I will tell him, Carlos. I know he will want to meet your lovely guest." My eyes met his, and he refused to look away. After a few minutes, I broke eye contact, and looked at the lovely woman who was speaking animatedly.

"Oh, I'd love to meet him! I can't cook, so I'm envious of anyone who can! Papa? Can I ask your help, please? I'm looking at the menu here, and there are so many things that sound absolutely delicious--I have no idea what to order. I'm not familiar at all with Cuban food, I'm afraid. I know only _Papas Rellenas _and _Empanadas_, which Carlos loves and which I definitely want to try. I see they are listed here as appetizers. But for the entrée, I have no idea what to ask for! What would you recommend, Papa?"

_How could I resist? _The appeal won my heart: the woman clearly loved food, and I loved talking about it. We went line by line down the menu, and she listened prettily while I explained what every dish contained. She wasn't familiar with Cuban food, but she was adventurous, willing to try anything and everything. She had a zest for life that I found refreshing. I could see how that charm would attract my son. I found myself smiling by the time we'd decided that I would select a sampler of items for her to try.

"You will have your usual, Carlos?" I asked, certain of his choice.

"What's his usual, Papa?" she asked, her eyes sparkling.

"Carlos always has the _Papas Rellenas _and the _Empanadas _as an appetizer. For the entrée, he always prefers _Paella Valenciana_. It is saffron rice garnished with shrimp, mussels, scallops, Chorizo sausage and chicken, with sweet peas and roasted peppers. Alejandro prepares the dish expertly; does he not, Carlos?"

"He does. Alejandro has a special gift for cooking. I could never have that, no matter how hard I tried. Or how much I might have wanted to." He held my eyes, and I couldn't look away.

"But you do _not_ want to, do you?" I gave him a intense look, seeing into his heart.

"No, I do not." He answered simply; and it broke my heart.

"Alejandro will own _Rosa's _one day. He will have a fine business and a well-respected name. He will be set for life." I couldn't see how Carlos could walk away from _Rosa's_.

"He _already_ has a well-respected name. And he will run the business in a way that will make you very proud…Papa." Carlos' voice was firm and decisive.

"I have no doubt of that, Carlos. None at all. I am very proud of my son…_Alejandro_. Unlike my _other _son, Alejandro will be a success." I tried again to shake him; to rouse his temper.

"You have another son, Papa?" her voice was soft.

"I have, Estefanía. Sadly." I gave Carlos a long look, daring him to respond.

"_Sadly_? Why? Is he not in the restaurant business?" She looked at my son. Carlos shrugged, saying nothing. I knew it damn near killed him to stay quiet.

"He has no interest in _Rosa's_, I'm afraid. He never comes in. He never asks about the business. He has absolutely no desire to be a part of the family business, Estefanía. He breaks his poor father's heart with his obstinacy." I watched Carlos' eyes darken. He was ready to snap any second!

"I'm sure he has _another_ dream he follows instead, Papa. Perhaps you need to accept that your son has a life of his own, and not expect him to live yours and Alejandro's. There are people out there in the world who are like Carlos and me and your son. We march to our own drum, Papa. It doesn't mean we don't love the band. It merely means that we've found a different instrument to play." Her calm voice belied her powerful words.

"Would you take our order now, Papa? Or would you send over the waitress instead?" Carlos interrupted, signaling me that our conversation was over. I was still processing Estefania's words….

"I shall send your server over to you immediately, Carlos. It was a pleasure, Estefanía." I gave her a polite smile, then called the server over to their table and took my leave. I walked over to Mateo, who was standing by the bar watching us with interest.

"She is lovely, is she not?" I said, "I can not argue with his choice of women. She has a passion for life that shines from her. She is well-spoken and quite obviously an intelligent, well-mannered lady. In truth, Mateo, I must admit that she is not what I expected."

"Nor I. He is in love with her, Tio Ricardo. And she with him. It is obvious."

"I see that. It does not mean it will last, however."

"I think it will. I think you will be surprised at the depth of the bond they have formed in such a short length of time." Mateo's voice was steady.

"Then you agree with me, they have just met recently?" I asked, watching his expressive face.

"Obviously. That was never in question for any of us. But there is such a thing as love at first sight. After meeting Lucia, I know that much is true. Carlos and Stephanie are in love; it will last. It is a good thing, Tio Ricardo. The best possible thing for him. It has given him hope. Something to look forward to when he returns."

"But if she doesn't wait--" I pressed.

"She will--" he sounded positive, but for the life of me I could not see how he could be.

"How can she put her life on hold for 18 months for a man she has known only a day or so? That is not realistic, Mateo. I am nothing if not a realist. Carlos is headed for a broken heart. My son is a strong man, he has guarded his heart for many long years. To give it away now, he is opening himself to heartache. I do not wish this for him."

"It would only be heartache if Stephanie did not love him or if her love weren't real. She will wait. I have no doubt of that."

"What was the paper she read to him? The paper I watched you both sign?"

"It was--for lack of a better explanation--a love contract."

"A love contract? What is such a thing, Mateo?"

"It was a tradition she learned at her friend's wedding. A legal contract that expressed the love and trust she feels, that her relationship with Carlos is real and lasting. She promised him her love, her faithfulness for the rest of her life."

"How can she promise such a thing? How can she be certain of her feelings this early in her relationship? This is not realistic."

"But love is not always realistic, Tio Ricardo. Love is faith against all odds. She has taken vows to him, vows that are every bit as binding as marriage vows. He needed to hear those words, especially now: he needs to know his woman will wait for him to return, no matter how long it takes. She has given him hope and it is that hope he will hold on to in the toughest of all times. We owe Stephanie our gratitude, not censure."

"I do not censure her, you misunderstand. She is not the type of woman I feared she would be, and for that I thank God. She was raised well, she is a lady, not a woman of easy virtue. That relieves my mind. But does she know the difficulty of keeping those vows you say she has taken? That is what I worry about, Mateo. I know Ricardo to be a man who values his control--"

"Then why are you determined to push that control until it snaps? This plan of yours to get him to lose his temper--"

"Did not work. Her words, Mateo. Her words interest me. I need to think on them further. She spoke from the heart, as one who herself is pushed into a role she does not want. I wonder how much Carlos has shared with her about his feelings. I think perhaps he has opened up to her in a way he never has with anyone else."

"He loves her. It is not surprising that they have talked of the important things. He and she plan a life together."

"Yes. I agree. It is more than sex. A woman like that would not give her body to a man she did not have feelings for. But I worry for Carlos! How can he support a family with a soldier's salary? How can he walk away from his duty to the family, when that duty will provide him with the security to support his family? What else is he trained to do? Nothing!"

"I think you underestimate your son, Tio Ricardo."

"I know what I know, Mateo. He was barely hanging in there in high school, he was much too involved in those damned gangs. He was fortunate he was not killed in that life; or else he could have ended up in prison."

"Why revisit the past now?"

"I do not revisit it. But I do not forget it, either. Carlos made a colossal mistake once; he almost lost everything because of it. How can I be certain that he is not making another one right now? How can I be a father to him when he does not allow it?"

"He knows what he is doing, Tio Ricardo. I can't stress that enough."

"You are closer to him than anyone, Mateo. I pray you are right. But my heart has doubts."

"Look at them dancing. They make a beautiful pair."

I watched them dancing to _Europa_, their bodies pressed together and their movements smooth and natural. One would think they had danced together for many years! I could not help but admire what a beautiful match they made: her fair skin and Carlos' mocha skin, her brown curls pressed into his broad shoulder, their arms wrapped around each other tightly. I was not the only one who noticed how stunning a couple they made: I saw others watching them admiringly.

"They would make beautiful grandchildren." I said without thinking.

"They would, yes. But they have a long way to go before that point. Carlos is being careful; he is doing the smart thing. He is right to keep the family out of this relationship."

"I agree. His Mama would be incorrigible. His sisters--particularly Celia--would be relentless in their attempts to learn everything there is about Estefania. They would smother her."

"And Abuela Rosa--"

"I shudder to imagine what my Mama's reaction to this would be. Particularly once she learned how they met. My Mama's delicate sensibilities would be shocked."

"I agree. It is best that she not learn anything about this. It was smart of you to think to give Tomas the evening off, Tio Ricardo."

"It was the only smart choice to make. He is young, he has a big mouth and no discretion. He would talk to his Mama about Carlos and his young woman, and Celia's interest would be awakened. She would never let the subject rest."

"I agree: she would be asking questions that are best left unanswered."

"Celia is nosy. She always has been, since she was a young girl. She'd get the entire family in an uproar over this girl. Then we'd never hear the end of it. And should Estefania find another man, she--"

"Stephanie is unlikely to find another man, Tio Ricardo. She is committed to Carlos. I wish you could believe that, as I do."

"Love does not come quickly, Mateo; it comes with time. Slowly. It ripens, like fruit. They have not had the time to let their attraction ripen to love. I fear it is passion, not love. Passion masquerades as love, but it will not last the test of time."

"We will see. I myself believe that it is far more than passion. But I will not argue with you, we need to agree to disagree on that."

"I want you to be right, Mateo. You have no idea how much I want you to be right. But as I say, I am a realist. I see things as they are, not as others might wish them to be. They're seated again….I'll go get Alejandro. I want my other son to meet his brother's woman. Let us see what Alejandro makes of the lovely Estefanía, shall we?"

I walked to the kitchen, seeing Alejandro waiting by the door. He hadn't been able to keep his curiosity at bay; he'd sneaked a peek and I was sure he'd been standing there long enough to watch Carlos and his woman for awhile.

"Carlos has asked to speak with you." I glanced again over at Estefania and my son; they were holding hands and laughing. It appeared they were discussing the food; it appeared she was enjoying her food; Carlos seemed to be amused by the fact. "She is lovely. I like her."

"She isn't anything like what I expected." Alejandro admitted, "They look good together, Papa. She makes Carlos laugh. I've never seen him this relaxed."

"She is a delightful young woman. Very bubbly. She isn't Cuban, but she has a real passion for life."

"You sound as if you are sold on her."

"I will tell you what I told Mateo: if I could be certain it was real, I would applaud the match. But I have deep reservations. They have just met. How can they maintain their love when Carlos is going to be away for the next 18 months? She is a lovely woman; one expects she will have many opportunities to date other men while he is gone. It is not fair to expect that she remain faithful--"

"Don't you think Carlos has considered all of this, Papa?"

"Yes, I believe he has. But what he tells himself may be what he wants to hear, Alejandro. It is only normal to believe what he has with Estefania is different than anyone else's relationship with their woman, that his will last where others might not. He leaves her and he can not guarantee that she will not change her mind--"

"But what if she doesn't?"

"What if she _does_? What does that do to Carlos? It will hurt him deeply."

"He is willing to take that chance, Papa. Surely it is _his_ decision to make, not _ours_. It is Carlos' life, Papa. He gets to decide what risks he is willing to take, what he wants to do with his life and what he doesn't. He loves this woman. He wants her in his life. My only reservation was what kind of woman she was. She seems to be a good match for him--she makes him laugh, she makes him happy. That is all I ask for my brother. This relationship is about more than sex, I can see that from the way they look at each other on the dance floor. From how they smile at each other across the table. That's enough for me."

I sighed, "I wish it could be enough for me. But I worry for both my sons."

"I understand, Papa. But I think it would be best for Carlos if we openly support his choice to be with this woman. He's going away on an especially dangerous mission this time. More dangerous than any previous, he says. He could--"

"I don't wish to discuss that, Alejandro. Not at this time. Carlos is a good soldier. The best. He will return from this mission, there is nothing else I wish to discuss about it. It is not an option that he will not return."

"I did not mean to say--"

"I can't--I can't conceive of that, Alejandro. Carlos and I have our problems. Many problems, many long-lasting ones that may never be resolved. He makes it clear that he does not have any interest in _Rosa's_, that he seeks a future that does not include the family business. Just what he can do--what he is suited to do--how he can earn a living other than as a soldier, I have no idea. I had hoped to provide a future livelihood for both my sons, through my hard work and growing my business. But while you have embraced it, Carlos has made it obvious that he will never choose to be a part of it."

"It doesn't mean he rejects you, Papa. He just doesn't want to run a restaurant."

"What else is he trained to do, Alejandro? He barely stayed in high school; his grades were abysmal because he was too wrapped up in that damned gang of his. He did finally pull himself together and go to college, thank God. I understand he was a good student; he must have been, or else the Army would not have wanted him. But other than being a soldier, what is he trained to do in order to earn a living? _Nothing! _How can he support a family? If he is a soldier, he will be away from his family for 18 months at a time, risking his life! That is no way to raise a family."

"Carlos knows this, Papa. He will be a success at whatever he tries. He is capable of earning a living in other ways."

"What he is, is stubborn. He will do what he wants, damn the consequences. But the father in me struggles to make it easier for him. He never has seen that."

"Perhaps what you perceive as easy for him is in fact the hardest path of all: he doesn't want to be involved in the business. To follow in your footsteps would be hard for him because it isn't what interests him."

"That is what she said. The lovely Estefanía. I must re-examine the situation. Take her words to heart. She holds my son's heart in her hands: she seems to understand him where I can not."

"I can't wait to meet her, if she can make you of all people rethink your position."

I watched with interest as Alejandro made his way over to the table where Carlos and Estefania enjoyed their meal. I took in their body language, examining it intently and deciding that I did indeed like the pairing. Carlos had made a fine choice of woman. I just hoped she understood the hardships she had in store for her….

I kept my eye on them all night, particularly when they were dancing. They were a striking couple, they moved beautifully together and I found myself smiling as I watched them. They were unaware of my observation, and I stood in the shadows and took in the sight before me. I watched them intently; the more I saw, the more I was convinced that this woman made my son happy.

I pushed aside all my dark fears that this mission would be his last; he'd told us of the danger, and his signing his Will in front of us had brought that into sharp focus. My son could not die in battle. _He could not. _Because if he did, he would die not knowing how much I loved him. Despite everything. Carlos was a difficult child; he had always walked his own path, from his childhood on to adulthood. Carlos did things his own way. Sometimes--many times--he took the hardest road. But I loved him. And I wanted him to be happy. I wanted him to have a family and to enjoy life and have a long and happy life with plenty of children and grandchildren to keep him company in his old age. I wanted desperately to know for certain that this decision of his was the right one. But how could I know? How could he?

I watched him, seeing him dance with Stephanie, now to romantic songs that spoke of a life together that I so much wanted for him to have. I focused in on the song they now danced to: _You Sang To Me_.

_Oh...I just wanted you to comfort me_

_When I called you late last night you see_

_I was fallin' into love_

_Yes, I was crashin' into love_

_Oh of all the words you sang to me_

_About life, the truth and being free, yeah_

_You sang to me, oh how you sang to me_

_Girl, I live for how you make me feel_

_So I question all this being real_

_'cause I'm not afraid to love_

_For the first time I'm not afraid of love_

_Oh, this day seems made for you and me_

_And you showed me what life needs to be_

_Yeah, you sang to me, oh you sang to me_

_All the while you were in front of me I never realized_

_I just can't believe I didn't see it in your eyes_

_I didn't see it, I can't believe it_

_Oh but I feel it_

_When you sing to me_

_How I long to hear you sing beneath the clear blue skies_

_And I promise you this time I'll see it in your eyes_

_I didn't see it, I can't believe it_

_Oh but I feel it_

_When you sing to me_

_Just to think you live inside of me_

_I had no idea how this could be_

_Now I'm crazy for your love_

_Can't believe I'm crazy for your love_

_The words you said you sang to me_

_And you showed me where I wanna be_

_You sang to me, oh you sang to me_

_All the while you were in front of me I never realized_

_I just can't believe I didn't see it in your eyes_

_I didn't see it, I can't believe it_

_Oh but I feel itWhen you sing to me_

_How I long to hear you sing beneath the clear blue skies_

_And I promise you this time I'll see it in your eyes_

_I didn't see it, I can't believe it_

_Oh but I feel it_

_When you sing to me_

I heard the words, and took them into my heart. "_So I question all this being real 'cause I'm not afraid to love-For the first time I'm not afraid of love". _My son, who had so guarded his heart for many years, had undoubtedly allowed himself to trust this young woman, for whatever reason. She made him happy. _She sang to him. _She taught him not to be afraid of love. She gave him the faith to embrace the future. She alone made his heart swell, made him dream of a future together with her and their family. _How could I, who did not know what they shared, question the reality of their love? _Perhaps it wouldn't last. Not every love did. But the reality was, it was real. It made Carlos happy. And Alejandro and Mateo were right: it gave him hope at a time when he needed it desperately.

I watched him give her a look full of such love and tenderness that my heart soared with the possibility of it all. I sent a prayer to God that he bring Carlos home safely to his Estefanía, and my son looked over at me. Our eyes met. I desperately tried to let him know how much I loved him. But I doubted he understood. That was another reason he needed to survive: we had far too much between us that needed to be resolved. We needed that time.

Sighing deeply, I blended back into the shadows to bide my time before I could again go over to my son's table and address him and his new love. When the time came, when I saw them finishing their dessert, I walked over and asked them if they had enjoyed their meal. Estefania was her ebullient self; I couldn't resist smiling again. I liked her; I liked her very much. I took the time to wish Carlos well while he was gone; it was not lost on me that this was the last time I would be able to speak with him before he left for battle. He looked questioningly at me, but I had the feeling that he understood that I meant what I said. At least I hoped and prayed that he did.

I saw them get up to dance again after I left, and I smiled. They loved to dance, and they fit well together. I hoped that always would be true. After they'd danced a few dances, I saw them leaving the dance floor, and Estefania retrieved her wrap from the coat check girl. Carlos was smiling, and they were obviously teasing each other, giddy with love and enjoying the moment. I couldn't help but smile. Then I saw Carlos' face, and I followed his eyes, wondering what he had seen that so shocked him. I knew enough about my son to know that he didn't get shaken easily. What I saw left me speechless!

_Mama?! _What the living hell was _she_ doing here? She stood with one of her lady friends, evidently waiting to be seated. She never came to the restaurant without letting me know! We'd been so careful to set things up tonight; this could ruin everything! I saw Carlos pulling his woman out the door, and I moved to distract my mother so she could not see them make their hurried departure.

"¿Mama, qué hace usted aquí?" ("_Mama! What are you doing here_?") I honestly couldn't think of anything else to say.

"¿Por qué debería yo no estar aquí? ¡Este restaurante fue nombrado por mí!" ("_Why shouldn't I be here? This restaurant was named after me_!") My mother asked irately.

Her friend looked around, taking in the ambiance. It was clear she had never been here before. My mother did not drive; therefore her friend had to have brought her. I didn't understand why she had come to _Rosa's _tonightwithout mentioning to me that she was going to dine here. It wasn't her usual procedure. It would have made me suspicious, were it not for the fact that I knew Mama did not speak English, and Carlos had been careful not to discuss his relationship with Estefania in Spanish.

"Usted no me dejó saber que usted venía. ¿Por qué no?" ("_You did not let me know you were coming. Why not_?")

"¿Qué? ¿No puedo hacer nada sin conseguir su permiso, mi hijo? ¡Su padre giraría en su tumba para oír esta discusión!" ("_What? I can't do anything without getting your permission, my son? Your father would spin in his grave to hear this discussion_!")

"¡Perdone mí, Mama! ¡No pensé implicar que usted no era la bienvenida!" ("_Forgive me, Mama! I did not mean to imply you were not welcome_!")

"Sra. Alverez y yo queremos una mesa. ¿Cuánto debemos poner la espera aquí?" ("_Mrs. Alverez and I want a table. How long must we stand waiting here_?")

"Le conseguiré una mesa ahora, Mama. Pido perdón. ¡Sra. Alverez, dé la bienvenida!" ("_I'll get you a table now, Mama. I apologize. Mrs. Alverez, welcome_!")

I gave a signal to the hostess, who immediately picked up two menus and prepared to show my mother and her friend to a choice table. I looked over to be certain that Carlos and Estefania had gone, and indeed they had. I breathed a sigh of relief, and turned back to see my mother and her friend following the hostess to their table. I was distracted for several minutes with a problem at the coat check stand--a patron had lost her gloves and needed to be pacified as a search was made. I stepped in and did my best to charm the woman, and forgot my mother for the time being.

Some moments later, I spotted Mateo, still waiting at the bar, and made my way over to him. He gave me a measuring look, "Well? What did Alejandro think of Stephanie Mazur?"

"He likes her. As do I," I admitted, winning a pleased smile from my nephew.

"Good. It is unanimous then: Carlos has made a good choice."

"I am more interested right now in what my Mama is doing here," I admitted.

"Abuela Rosa is here? But what is she--"

"I have no clue, Mateo. There is no way she could have overheard us discussing this visit tonight. We were very careful always to speak in English. Yet of all the evenings for her to show up with one of her many friends, tonight she appears! It was only by some miracle that Carlos has managed to make his escape without being discovered."

"Thank God for that! If she had seen her beloved Carlito with a woman tonight, we would never have heard the end of it until she finally got to meet Stephanie. And Abuela would not care for Stephanie had she the details of how they met, I think."

"My Mama is very sheltered, for sure. I hesitate to imagine what her reaction would be should she ever learn of how Carlos and Estefania met. If she is still with Carlos when he returns from war--"

"She will be."

"Pray God, she will be. But if she is, we must work out some careful explanation as to how they came to be acquainted. Mama will never accept a woman who would---"

"_Abuela Rosa_!" My nephew exclaimed, "¿Son usted bien?" ("_Grandma Rosa! Are you all right_?")

I spun around, startled to see my mother just coming back inside the restaurant. There was no way she could have seen Carlos, however; he and Estefania had left some time ago. I breathed a sigh of relief. "¿Están usted bien, Mama? ¿Donde está Sra. Alverez?" ("_Are you well, Mama? Where is Mrs. Alverez_?")

"En la mesa." ("_At the table_.") she said dismissively, "Estoy bien. Sólo necesité un aliento del aire fresco, mi hijo." ("_I'm fine. I just needed a breath of fresh air, my son_.")

I looked carefully at my mother, who seemed to me to be hiding a satisfied smile. What was she up to? I looked over at Mateo, whose brow was furrowed. Clearly he saw something that worried him, as well. "¿Usted está seguro qué todo está bien con usted, Abuela?" ("_Are you certain that all is well with you, Grandmother_?")

"Nunca me he sentido mejor en mi vida. Ahora consígame un servidor, tengo una mente para tenerme una comida fina." ("_I've never felt better in my life. Now get me a server, I have a mind to have myself a fine dinner_.")

I watched my Mama march to her table, a spring in her step and a huge smile on her lips. I looked over at Mateo and shrugged. We'd gotten colossally lucky tonight, on many accounts: Estefania was a delight, not the loose woman we feared her to be. And Carlos had managed to make an escape without my mother any the wiser! God was indeed looking out for us! What more could we wish for?


	44. Chapter 44

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 44

_Abuela Rosa's POV_

My family has no idea who Rosa Manoso really is. I have a deep dark secret that would change everything if anyone were to discover it. I thought for sure they would suspect, after tonight. Who knows? Perhaps they do. But there is no proof. I cover my tracks well. I always have. I'm a smart woman. If I'm questioned, I'll do what I usually do in times like this: go on the offensive. Challenge anyone who questions me. Like my son.

Ricardo thinks he is taking care of me, as he no doubt promised his late father Alejandro that he would. But I don't need anyone to manage me: I am a strong woman. I manage myself. And I look after my own. My Carlito. Yes, I have a favorite grandson. I freely admit it. If I hadn't watched over my Carlito since his birth, who knows what would have become of him? His inflexible father has never understood his second son. But I have, because I understand how it feels to be ignored. Overlooked. Underestimated. You see, I've been so my entire life.

I was the youngest of three children, the only daughter. The baby of the family. The one who was deemed not to need an education--because after all, I would marry and have children. Why would _I_ need to be educated? I was pretty, I was clever. I learned my role in the family and I played my part expertly. If I wanted something, I had to flirt to get it. To play the helpless woman. To beg favors, rather than issue demands. Passive, not active. Never active.

More than anything, I wanted an education, because I wanted to be able to depend on myself and not on a man. But my father over-ruled me: I was sent to a convent school where I learned how to cook, how to sew, how to make polite conversation. I married well. An arranged marriage, as was done in Cuba in the Old World. There was no other choice; my father was firmly set in his ways and my mother never argued with him. She, after all, had an arranged marriage herself. It was the way people did things in those days.

When I was 12, I was betrothed to a man 14 years my senior. Alejandro Manoso was well thought of in the circle my father moved in. Alejandro was ambitious. He was a hard-working man who dreamed of one day starting his own business in the United States, where his family would sponsor him. He had apprenticed for many years in a fine restaurant in Cuba. He was the only son, and his family's hopes for the future rested on him. He did not disappoint them.

When I turned 16, I was married to Alejandro. That same year my new husband and I came to the United States, where we settled in Newark, New Jersey, in the middle of a close-knit Cuban community. One year later, I gave birth to my first born son, Alejandro Pablo Jr. At the time, my husband was working as a Sous Chef in a small family-owned restaurant that belonged to someone else. Alejandro worked like a dog for next to nothing in the way of wages. But he never took his eye off the prize: he wanted to own his own restaurant one day. He wanted to move ahead of his station in life. To be a wealthy man. To be well thought of, to be important in his community. To be The Man everyone aspired to become. Those who knew my husband did not doubt that one day he would make that dream a reality. But at what cost?

Alejandro Manoso was not an unkind man. He loved me in his own way, this I do not doubt. But it was not the way I wanted to be loved. The way I needed to be loved. I was not a partner in our marriage, I was a second class citizen. I was issued orders, and I was expected to obey my husband without question. As I'd been expected to obey my father. And again, I played my role beautifully. I was docile, I was amenable. I behaved myself and in order to get what I wanted, I flirted with or cajoled Alejandro. And I read anything and everything, trying desperately to get the education I had been denied by my father. I was every bit as single-minded in my ambition as Alejandro, but I had a different aim: I wanted independence. I wanted to be valued as a person, not trapped in a role that chafed at me.

My husband issued orders, he didn't make requests. He wasn't that kind of man. One of his demands was that we all spoke Spanish in our home. We did things as they were done in the Old Country, always. No matter that we were in a new country. The old ways were best. In all things. Women were to be cosseted, not celebrated. I did my duty, as always. I did my part to help Alejandro become more successful in his career. I kept a clean home, I entertained his guests, I smiled and played the loyal wife while he toiled long nights at the restaurant.

I gave birth to my second son, Ricardo Carlos, and about that time I learned that I was unable to have any other children. It was a huge disappointment to my husband; it was a secret relief to me. It was a busy time in Alejandro's life: he was preparing to open his own restaurant using the salary he'd saved so carefully, as well as funds from his family, from my dowry, and an investment from several businessmen who believed in advancing the interests of the Cuban community. Alejandro showed a rare sentimental streak when he announced that he would name his restaurant _Rosa's_, after me. I had just given him his second son, after all. I was flattered. Who wouldn't be? Had I but known the restaurant would become his mistress, I doubt that I would have smiled so prettily when we posed for the newspaper photo the night the doors opened for the first time.

Alejandro spent every waking moment obsessing about _Rosa's_: the menu; the staff; the freshest produce; the finest meat; the long-courted influential clientele. I stayed at home and raised our sons while my husband worked every day and night to make _Rosa's_ The Premier Restaurant in Newark. He'd chosen his location well: across the street from the Courthouse. The politicians came first. The influential became his loyal customers. My husband's careful decisions served him well: he was Old Country--that set _Rosa's_ apart from several other newly-opened restaurants. I had nothing to complain about, in my husband's eyes. Within a few years we were able to afford luxuries that others were not. Alejandro was generous with his money; but not with his time or his affection.

I grew to resent _Rosa's_, but it mattered not: my husband carried on with it as if it were a favorite mistress. Our two children were destined to take over the family business, my husband believed; unfortunately, Alejandro Jr. was a sickly child and did not survive his third year. Ricardo then became his father's sole hope for the future. He'd always been an artistic child, but after his brother's death, he became my husband's shadow. From an early age, my son would parrot his father's menu when prompted; he was taught to cook by his father, and the two would discuss recipes the way others would recite bedtime stories. It was never an option for Ricardo to choose any career other than chef at _Rosa's_.

My son grew up fast; he married well and fathered six children of his own. As had been the case with him, his children were pushed towards a future with _Rosa's_. The girls were fortunate in my eyes: because they would not carry the Manoso name, they were not trained as chefs. They were pressed into service as waitresses. Why waste a career upon a woman, after all? They would marry and take their husband's names, when the time came. But Alejandro III and Ricardo, Jr.--my _Carlito_? Ah, they would one day step into their rightful positions in _Rosa's_--or so my husband and my son assumed. And so the succession would be guaranteed.

Until Carlito broke the mold, that is.

He hadn't been interested in _Rosa's _at all at any age. No matter how much his grandfather and his father cajoled, bribed or eventually threatened him, he hung tough. He wasn't interested in learning to cook. He rebelled against his lot in life; he refused to apprentice in the restaurant. While young Alejandro worked hard to make my husband and my son proud, Carlito seemed to delight in making them angry. He deliberately ruined recipes, either by neglect or deliberate sabotage. He had not the chef's educated palate, nor did he show any signs of wanting to work at developing one. He ignored instructions, he flaunted authority whenever possible. He refused to work at the restaurant in any position, including bus boy or server. Carlito would prefer to spend time with his friends. Hooligans. Gang members.

I understood why: he was accepted by those people on his own merits. He was valued for himself and his own accomplishments, whereas he was belittled by his own blood because he refused to follow orders. The more Alejandro and Ricardo pushed Carlito to give in and to fit the mold they'd assigned him, the more he rebelled. Had I been a man, I would have reacted the same way. I identified with his need to chart his own course. I admired his resourcefulness in defying authority. My grandson became, to me, the living embodiment of my own long-sought-after quest for independence. How fitting, too, that where Alejandro III resembled his father and my son, my grandson Carlito favored _me_ in looks!

One of the darkest periods of my life was the time my husband exiled Carlito from the family because of the legal trouble he'd gotten into with the gang. He'd been involved in a knifing, and had been hauled down to Juvenile Hall where charges were threatened against him for his part in the incident. Because it was Carlito's first offense, he was only given a warning. But for his grandfather and his father, that was enough: Carlito was forced to move out of the house and his name was banned for many years among the family. His mother arranged to have him live with her sister and her family; and during that exile only his mother and I had any contact with my beloved grandson.

Happily, the conflict served to wake my Carlito up to the dangers of belonging to the gang. He pulled himself together and made a fresh start, beginning college and becoming a responsible young man in the aftermath of the near-tragedy. Then he made the decision to join the Army after two years of college. It was the answer to all of my prayers. Upon my husband's death, I lobbied my son to remove the ban on Carlito. Honestly, I believe my son was looking for an excuse to do just that. But, regardless of how it happened, the only thing that mattered to me was that Carlito was again openly a Manoso.

Unfortunately, their long estrangement had left an almost insurmountable gulf between my son and his second born son. Ricardo has never given up the vain hope that Carlito will one day join him and Alejandro in _Rosa's_. But there is no way my grandson will settle for life as a chef or a restaurateur. It is too predictable. Too boring for Carlito. My grandson for the moment is content to be a member of a special branch of the military known as Delta Force. Not that _I_ am supposed to be aware of this, mind you! No, I'm considered too delicate to bear the knowledge that my beloved Carlito risks his life as a member of his government's Special Forces. In truth, I suspected as much even before Carlito confirmed it to his father and brother when he visited for Pilar's wedding.

What is my deep dark secret, you ask? Unknown to my family, I am fluent in English--I have been for many years. I call it 'my little equalizer'. You'd be surprised how much I learn by listening and saying not a word! There is only one member of the family who does not underestimate me, and that is my beloved Carlito. He senses a hidden depth to his Abuela Rosa; in that, he is correct. I am frequently overlooked, underestimated by my son and by the rest of the family. _Dear Abuela Rosa. Speak only Spanish, she doesn't speak English. Speak slowly, so as not to confuse her. Speak louder, so she can understand you. _As if I need that advantage! There is nothing that goes on in my family that I am not aware of! _Nothing! _

And so, when I saw Ricardo and Alejandro disappear into my son's study with Carlito and Mateo, I did what needed to be done: I listened at the door! No one in the family dare do that except for me. No one expects me to listen, and so I lurk at the door and open my ears. Carlito thought to foil me by speaking in English. Poor boy, it was all he could think to do: he could not suggest sign language--and that would have been the _only_ thing that would have kept me from discovering his secrets!

Of course, I may have blown my advantage tonight. Carlito will figure it out; he is not a fool, my dear grandson. Ricardo, my son…he _should_ tumble to it, if he uses his brain. But he will not. His ego is too large. He asked why I appeared here, tonight of all nights. And I did what I always do when my back is to the wall: challenge him. Turn the question back upon him. Ask why I should not elect to eat here tonight, why I should deprive myself of a meal with my friend Beatrice Alvarez. _Fools! _As if I would willingly dine with Beatrice given any alternative! She is a stick-in-the-mud and a know-it-all who bores me silly! But she has a car, and she is always in the mood for a free meal! And so I arranged for her to meet me here for dinner. After I had myself taken a taxicab to the restaurant earlier. And I did what I always do when I want to know what is going on in my family: I listen and say nothing!

I had overheard Carlito tell his father and his brother about that woman--Stephanie Mazur--the woman my Carlito loves. The woman he will marry when he leaves Delta Force at the end of his tour of duty. I listened while he rhapsodized to them about her, and I heard the tone of his voice. A tone that told me everything I needed to know about how special Stephanie Mazur is to my grandson. I am not a prude: I knew already that my Carlito would not leave for his assignment without taking pleasure with a woman. I had my little fun teasing him in front of his mother and his sisters. But I provided him with the excuse he needed to take Sunday off from the family. Yet I had my little antenna up at that: wondering why Carlito was so nervous, so protective of his special day off. It was unusual. And that in and of itself told a tale.

I watched to see how Carlito would behave when my son the ass makes him wait, rubs it in that he is still not forgiven. I see young Alejandro grow a spine for once and stand up for his younger brother against his father. That tells me the business is very dangerous. So I make certain I am nearby when they move to go into the study. And I give the eye to Celia and Pilar and the others. I move to the door and I listen to Carlito request that they speak in English. Wise. But not wise enough to get one over on Abuela Rosa!

My plans are formed with that discussion. I call Beatrice Alvarez and ask her to join me at _Rosa's _for dinner. I tell my daughter-in-law that I have a headache and will not be joining them for the family meal. Then I call the taxicab and get to _Rosa's _in time to see this 8pm meeting with Carlito and Stephanie and Mateo. I see everything, and am not seen at all. I am invisible. One old lady in a sea of people. A sharp old lady with eyes that see everything: I see that they are in love, Carlito and his lovely young woman. I see the way Stephanie Mazur looks at my grandson. I am happy. Because I see the way Carlito looks back at her.

I lurk near the coat check room and I watch as Carlito wraps his arm around his woman and proudly escorts her to their table. I see them giggle and hold hands and exchange lovesick glances, and it makes my old heart sing! Carlito has never before brought a young woman to _Rosa's_, this I know. No other woman has ever been introduced by my Carlito to his family, not even when he was young. Always Carlito has guarded his heart. But tonight his guard is down. She makes him smile. I hear Mateo talking to Ricardo, and I listen. _She gives Carlito hope_, Mateo says. _She takes vows to him, every bit as serious as wedding vows_, Mateo says. It is that vow that made my grandson pull her to him and kiss her in the middle of the restaurant!

I watch Ricardo go over to the two lovers and I can tell he is up to his usual tricks. My son never learns: he tries to push Carlito's buttons, to no avail. It is undoubtedly some variation on the 'my son shames his family' routine; it always is. But Carlito holds his temper in front of his young woman. I smile with pride. My Carlito is too smart to be taken in! I see Ricardo slink away, defeated. Then I watch him conferring with Alejandro, and I see Alejandro meet his brother's woman for the first time. I read their body language, and I know for certain she has made a convert of Alejandro, as she has of Mateo. Even my son Ricardo likes her, this I can see clearly. Probably she has gotten him talking about food! Has Carlito given her the hint or has she found his Achilles' Heel on her own? Regardless, it has worked beautifully!

They dance together as if they were born to it. I am almost discovered as I stay too long in the open, so happy am I to see my Carlito and his pretty Stephanie. I must find a way to get to know this young woman while my grandson is at war. I had planned to marry him off to young Isabella Tonio, but that is not necessary now. Carlito has found his own mate. I wonder if she is from Newark? I am no fool: I know he has met her for the first time this weekend. I am not shocked. These days young people meet and hop into bed before they know each other's last name. I do not care: she makes my Carlito happy. That is all that matters to me! Who is she? Perhaps she is a guest at the hotel? How can I get her address? What is that fool manager's name, anyway? Damn! I cannot think of it. No matter. I will think of some way to get the information. I always do….

I see Beatrice Alvarez coming inside, and check my watch. Is it that time already? I am distracted by Beatrice, and thus it is that Carlito finally catches a glimpse of me. I have to hide my smile--he damned near yanks his woman's arm from the socket pulling her outside. Desperate to escape my eye. He has no clue that I've been watching for over an hour!

I see the moment my son Ricardo catches sight of me, and it is all I can do not to laugh. He opens his mouth and says the first thing on his mind. Fool. I make mincemeat of him. And I watch for my opportunity to follow Carlito out the door so that I can see more of the young woman who has stolen my grandson's heart. I get the moment I have been waiting for, ironically because a patron has lost her gloves and a search must be made for them. I say ironically because it is my fault that the gloves were missing: I'd accidentally knocked them off the shelf when I was hiding in the coat check stand earlier in the evening. No one had noticed me then.

But Carlito has noticed me this time, for certain! I step outside just in time to see him and his young woman making very improper use of his car's front passenger seat. Yes, she is the one for my Carlito, all right! She has fire in her veins! I cannot resist shaking my finger at my grandson, and I see the look of horror on his face. I think this time this old lady has made a very definite impression! I walk back into _Rosa's _with a smile on my face and a jaunty swagger to my step. Life is good. Life is good indeed!


	45. Chapter 45

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 45

Carlos hadn't been himself since we'd had sex in _Rosa's_ parking lot. I know, I know, it was amazing to discover that after a little over 48 hours of meeting him that I knew exactly what was normal for Carlos and what wasn't--but the fact was, I _did_. And his behavior hadn't been anywhere near normal since then. For one thing, he'd beaten all land and speed records in getting us out of the parking lot and back to the hotel. Which wouldn't have surprised me if he'd been interested in going for another round of red-hot sex--but he wasn't. He was quiet, withdrawn; anything but teasing or even relaxed, as one might expect after really great sex. Which it had been--for _me_, anyway. Clearly not for _him_. And of course, Stephanie Plum takes the bull by the horns in all circumstances, so I had come flat out and asked the question.

"Wasn't it good for you?" I watched his face intently as he stared out the window, saying nothing. "I'm going to keep asking, Carlos, so you might as well answer the question once and for all. That's one thing you need to know about me: I don't give up and just shut up. Never have. So you might as well just suck it up and tell me what's wrong. Or I'll nag you all night about it and it'll ruin our last evening."

"Do we really have to do this, Babe?" His voice sounded strained, and he refused to meet my eyes, which of course made things even worse. The man was definitely not behaving as I'd expected.

"Carlos, _talk to me_! I thought you were trying to get me to be more sexually experimental! That you _wanted _that! Wasn't that the whole point of suggesting we have sex in the hotel lobby? Doing it practically in public in the alcove by the elevator? '_Sex in a public place where there is likelihood of discovery_', remember? You had that as one of your fantasies!"

"Depends on who's doing the discovering," he muttered under his breath.

"Excuse me?" I walked over impatiently, "What the hell does _that_ mean?"

"Drop it, will you please?"

"No, I'm _not_ going to drop it. You've been acting like a different man since we had sex, and I want to know why. Was it not good for you, or what? The truth, Carlos!"

"It was just fine."

"Whoopee! Now that's a hell of a recommendation. '_It was just fine_.'"

"What do you want me to say, Steph? The Earth moved."

"How about telling me _the truth_? Got any of that around you can spare? You weren't exactly enthusiastic about doing it to begin with, but once you got in the mood, you sure as hell _seemed_ to be enjoying yourself. So what happened? Did I say something wrong? Scream too loud? Come too fast? Act too aggressively? What?"

"You were fine, Steph. Believe it or not, you aren't the cause of every mood change I have."

"Wow! That's progress, all right! At least we've moved to acknowledging that you _did_ have a mood change! Now the question is _why_? If it wasn't me, what was it?"

"You really aren't going to let this drop, are you, Steph? You're going to keep pushing all night until I tell you--"

"Tell me _what_? What happened that got you so upset? You're upset even now."

"I'm upset because I asked you to let it alone and you still keep picking at it, Babe. _Relentlessly_."

"Get used to it: that's who I am, Carlos. I'm not just the person you smile at and flirt with and have sex with. I'm the woman you say you love. The one you say you want to spend the rest of your life with. That presupposes we have important discussions sometimes. And you level with me when you're hurting or upset. I'm on _your_ side, in case you haven't figured that out yet!"

"_I saw someone_, okay?"

"Saw _who_? _Where_? In the restaurant? In the parking lot? Which? Why did this person upset you so much?"

"Someone I recognized saw us going at it in the parking lot. It made me uncomfortable. That's why I wanted to leave in such a hurry. Satisfied now?"

"Not until you tell me who it was. Was it Papa?"

"No. Thank God."

"Alejandro? Did he come out of the kitchen and--"

"No."

"Mateo?"

"No again. You don't know this person at all, Steph. It doesn't even matter who it was, anyway. I just--"

"Was it an old girlfriend?"

"No. Can we please just drop--"

"But it's a _she_. That much is clear. Because if it were a guy, you'd be less upset about it. Guys like to know you've scored with a woman, right? Some macho thing. So it's a woman."

"_Yes. _Okay, clearly we aren't going to move past this until you get the information you want. To hell with me asking for some privacy--"

"I'm not getting distracted that easily, Carlos. You want me to jump on that and then we'll fight about your privacy issues and in the meantime you'll forget to mention the name of the woman--"

"_It's Papa's mother_, okay? A little old woman who's known me since I was a baby saw me going at it in the parking lot of her family restaurant! And pardon me if that upset me, but it _did_. Now can we stop it before this ruins what's left of the evening?"

"Rosa saw us? The woman the restaurant was named after?"

"Yes."

"She was at the restaurant and you didn't introduce me? Why not?"

"We were kind of busy at the time."

"I don't mean when we were having sex, Carlos! I mean, you didn't introduce me inside the restaurant?"

"I didn't see her inside the restaurant. Neither did Papa, clearly. She doesn't work there; she's an elderly woman with Old World sensibilities that were completely offended--"

"She'll get over it by the next time you see her. It's kinda embarrassing, sure, but in the grand scheme of things--"

"Stop pontificating on something you don't know anything about."

"Pontificating? I'm _pontificating_? Well excuse me for trying to make you feel better! Okay, so instead of being a minor blip on her radar screen--which no doubt has other more important things to worry about like her _own_ family--let's assume that the sight of us fucking like bunnies in her parking lot has probably so damaged her mental state that her poor family will be calling the paramedics any minute now because we drove her into a heart attack. There? Does _that _make you feel any better?"

"God damn it, Steph--"

"She's raised a _son_, for crying out loud, Carlos! She's not some delicate little hot-house flower who's going to perish because she's seen for herself that people have sex in public when they're really attracted to each other! Hell, for all you know, she's done it herself once or twice in her lifetime----"

"_Enough_! I'm not having this discussion with you! Drop it!"

"Okay. _Fine. _Do you want to call the restaurant and check on her?"

"_What_?"

"Call Papa at the restaurant and give him the heads up that his mother got a shock to her system and he needs to watch her closely for the rest of the evening. Make sure she's okay or whatever."

"I'm not going to call _Papa_ and tell him we were having sex in his parking lot and _his_ _mother_ caught us doing it! Are you _insane_?"

"No, are _you_? Good Lord, Carlos! _Grow up! _Do you honestly think _we're_ the first people to go at it in the parking lot of his restaurant? It probably happens all the time in this day and age!"

"I can't believe we're even having this conversation! Are you listening to yourself?"

"Oh, so it's _me_ who's at fault here? _I_ suggested having sex in public. _I'm _the slut. That's right: let's blame _me_ for all of it."

"It doesn't really matter _who_ suggested it, Steph. The point was, it was a bad idea."

"Why?"

"Because we got caught!"

"_So what? _That was your fantasy! You wrote it down, Superman. It's kind of ironic, but there you have it: you asked for it, the Universe gave it to you. Be careful what you wish for, and all that…"

"How can you be so damned blasé about this?"

"It's _over_, that's why! We aren't going to be arrested for lewdness or public indecency. We aren't going to be on You Tube. Rosa didn't have her cell phone with her, she wasn't videotaping us, right?"

"She doesn't even know what You Tube is, Babe."

"_So_? _End of drama! _You're going away for 18 months--by the time you get back, she'll have long since forgotten all about you getting your rocks off with some bimbo in her parking lot."

"Unlikely. She has a memory like a steel trap."

"Well then we'll go to a different restaurant for our Welcome Home dinner. See? _Problem averted_!"

"Yeah, sure. Problem averted. That was easy. Why didn't _I_ think of that?"

"That's what you have _me_ for!" I wrapped my arms around him, and this time he didn't pull away. "If you want to call Papa--"

"No, I _don't_. I want to _forget _about it, Steph. Really, I do. Now that I've spilled my deep dark secret to you, is there any chance at all that we can actually do that?"

"Yes, we can. Now that you've told me the truth, that is." I leaned in for a slow deep kiss which he finally returned. "You can tell me _anything_, you know that, right, Carlos?"

"Yeah. I know, Babe."

"Good. And for the record: I had a wonderful time, you know."

"In the parking lot?"

"Oh, _that_? That was….fine_. _Just fine." I shrugged nonchalantly.

"I thought it was a hell of a lot better than _just fine_, Babe. You were making enough noise--"

"I forgot all about it," I teased.

"Oh, so _that's_ how we're going to play this, huh?"

"What?" I batted my lashes, trying my damnedest to look innocent. "Play _what_, Carlos?"

"_This_," he murmured, pulling me into his arms; making me forget all about anything but how much I loved him and how well we fit together. His hands roamed over my body, setting me on fire, coaxing moans that grew ever louder. Within minutes my hair was out of the chignon I'd crafted so carefully; a few minutes after that, I was naked and lying underneath him as he proceeded to demonstrate that we were just as perfect together in bed as we'd been in the passenger seat of his Porsche.

"MMMMMMMMM," I sighed, cuddling into his arms in the aftermath of our lovemaking, "That was exactly what I needed."

"Me too, Babe," he stroked my arm gently and dropped a tender kiss on my forehead. "I'm sorry I behaved like an ass earlier."

"You were upset," I excused him, "I just want you to know you can talk to me about anything at all. I'm on your side, always. I can handle anything, Carlos. Just tell me the truth and we'll be fine. Remember? Our agreement was not to lie to each other…."

"I love you, and that's no lie," he said softly, "You're everything to me, Steph. _Everything_."

"And you're everything to me, Carlos. Dinner was perfect tonight. I loved every second of it, in case I didn't say that before. Trying that delicious Cuban food. Dancing with you. Being in your arms. Meeting your friends--"

"You charmed them all--not that I'm surprised. That's just you, Babe. Who you are. I'm glad you had fun. So did I. But that contract you signed…I've got no words for how much that means to me."

"You can take it with you?"

"I'll have it on me every minute. Reminding me of how much I have to live for."

"That's the idea: to give you hope. To remind you how much I love you and always will."

"I get that, Babe. Believe me, I get that. But you promised me that you're going to go on with your life while I'm gone, remember? No living in the past and hiding out from the world--"

"I can live my life and still remember every single second that we were together. And that's what I'm going to do." I held up my right hand and the opals in the promise ring caught the light, glittering beautifully. "I'm going to wear this and think of you. And count the days until you come back to me. Speaking of--"

"What?"

"How are we going to do that, Carlos? Arrange it so that we can meet again after 18 months? Is it 18 months to the date? Or more or less, depending on when your mission ends? And if I give you my phone number and home address and I have to change the number or if I move for some reason, how do you find me again?"

"I'll find you, Stephanie Plum. Don't worry about that."

"I _do_ worry. I don't want anything going wrong. Some crazy mistake happening and then we don't meet and we go through the rest of our lives miserable--"

"That's not going to happen."

"No, it _isn't_. Because we're going to have a _plan_. Right now. One we both agree on and promise to follow, _no matter what_!"

"A plan?"

"Yes…..but what?"

"How about this? You're in the phone book. Even if you have a new number, you keep it a listed number. I look your name up, I call you, you tell me if you've moved or not, and I come over to your apartment, wherever it is."

"That's not romantic at all."

"I'll bring roses."

"Carlos…."

"Roses _and_ champagne. And chocolate. Godiva chocolate. How about that?"

"Still not romantic enough. I want this to be _really_ romantic, Carlos. Something we can tell our children and grandchildren about, one day."

"Well, considering that we'll have to skip over the whole 'how we met and fell in love' part of the story--"

"That's true….._Omigod! _I know what's perfect! We'll meet back _here _in 18 months! In room 407! That way we won't be interrupted by anyone or anything. We'll call room service and make love 24/7--"

"Meet here in 18 months? In room 407? On April 6th, 2010?"

"Can we?"

"You've got a date, Babe. I'll make the arrangements tonight: I'll give them my credit card and reserve the room in both of our names. Whoever gets here first orders the champagne, okay?"

"I love it. It's _perfect_! And I love you! But, we agree right now that we're going to be here no matter what happens, okay? Because….well, there was this movie called _An Affair To Remember_….the original, with Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr, I mean. Not the remake with Warren Beatty and Annette Bening. Although I think it doesn't exactly matter which one, in this case, because the basic plot didn't change. Much, I mean. But the original was a much better film and--"

"_Steph_? You're rambling. Get to the point."

"Sorry. Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr's characters meet on a cruise and they fall in love. But they're with other people at the time, so they agree to meet again in 6 months at the top of the Empire State Building if they still feel the same about each other. And he goes there but she never shows up; and he thinks she just didn't love him after all and wonders if she married the other guy instead and if she ever thinks about him at all. He doesn't know that she had this terrible accident on her way there to meet him, and that's the _only_ reason she didn't turn up. She never stopped loving him. She was crippled in the accident, so she never tried to find him afterwards because she didn't want him to be tied to her since she couldn't walk. She loved him too much and thought it wasn't fair to him. Anyway, a year later he sees her at the ballet when he's with his former fiancée. She's sitting down, so he has no clue she can't walk. He's really hurt and bitter, so he broods about it and almost doesn't go to see her, but then he _does _and she still doesn't tell him why she didn't meet him. But he had painted this picture of her--did I forget to say? He's a painter. _Anyway_--"

"_Babe_! Forget Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr. We'll going to meet here in 18 months and--"

"_NO_! That's the whole point to my story, Carlos! They thought _they_ were going to meet, too, but the Universe screwed them up and they didn't have a Plan B. I want _us_ to have a Plan B just in case something unexpected happens--"

"Okay, okay! Plan A is what we just agreed to, right?"

"_Right. _Except that if either of us isn't here, we go to Plan _B_! We don't assume the other one changed their mind and then just walk away and say it wasn't meant to be, because it _is_ meant to be! _We're _meant to be! We agree to be here, no matter what. But if we don't show up, either of us, then we go to Plan B! Promise me!"

"I promise, Babe. So what's Plan B?"

"God, _I don't know_! I wish I had one that was foolproof!"

"What about this? I'm supposed to be back on April 6th, 2010--and I probably will be. But just in case something happens and I'm caught in Washington D.C. for an extra day or so de-briefing from the mission, I'll reserve this room for us for the entire _week_. It'll be on my credit card but in both of our names; so you check in on the 6th and wait for me no matter how long it takes for the debriefing to go down, okay?"

"Okay! That covers us if _you're_ late meeting me. But if _I'm_ late showing up because something horrible happens on my way to get here--"

"_Babe_!"

"Then I'll call--or else have Tina or whoever else call the front desk and leave a message for you. And then when you get the message--"

"Then I'll be on my way to you in minutes. Wherever you are. Count on it. Feel better now?"

"Much!"

"I can guarantee you'll feel even _better_ _than that_ in just a few more minutes," Carlos grinned wickedly.

_Oh boy!_


	46. Chapter 46

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 46

_Carlos' POV_

In the next few hours, Stephanie and I made love over and over, each time more sublime than the previous. We both knew our time together was almost over, and we were determined to make the most of it. We'd cuddle and make pillow talk between lovemaking; then we'd reach for each other and we'd make love again. There were no fantasies played out tonight; it was all real. We were making memories that had to last us for 18 months--and they _would_.

We'd agreed that I would pack my bags and check out of the hotel tonight: we'd spend our last hours tomorrow morning in her room. _Our_ room. I'd promised her that I'd make the arrangements with the hotel to reserve room 407 for April 6-12, 2010. After I'd exhausted my Babe with slow and tender lovemaking, I climbed silently out of bed and headed upstairs to the 8th floor to pack the remainder of my belongings. I'd taken her key card so I could drop my bags off before I headed down to the front desk to return my 8th floor room's key card.

There was another important thing on my 'to do' list: I couldn't wait to make the call the minute I left Steph's room. Once Abuela Rosa had seen me with a woman--especially under _those_ circumstances--I knew damned well that time was of the essence. Hell, she was probably plotting ways to find my Babe even as I spoke!

"Mat? It's Carlos," I said, "We have a big problem."

"Are you okay? Is Stephanie okay?" Mateo's voice was concerned.

"For now. But Abuela Rosa saw us. Stephanie and me, I mean. She was coming into the restaurant as we were headed out, and--"

"I know, Tio Ricardo distracted her, he said. He thinks you made it out unobserved."

"He's dead wrong then. She followed us out to the parking lot a little bit later. She saw us---I mean--_damn_! There's no other way to say it, Mat! We were having sex in the car, damn it all to hell. We finished, I looked up, and guess who was in plain sight watching us? She wagged her finger at me and then headed back into the restaurant."

"_Holy living shit! _That's one of my worst nightmares! Of all the bad luck--"

"That's what I'm telling you, Mat. It's _not_ bad luck. She saw us inside--she _had_ to have! And she followed us out! No way in hell did she do a random pop out the door for air just at the worst possible time. That's not what happened--I _know_ her."

"Did Steph see her?"

"No, but I had to admit to her what happened. I was spooked and Steph picked up on it and wouldn't let it drop until I confessed. And before you ask, _no_, I didn't tell her who Abuela was. That she was my grandmother, I mean. I told her that she was Papa's mother."

"Same thing, Carlos! I don't underst---"

"No, it isn't. Listen! The old bastard introduced himself to Steph and told her to call him Papa! 'Carlos does', he said. I saved it by saying '_everyone_ does'. So she thinks it's a customer thing and now _she's_ calling him Papa."

"Son of a bitch! But he likes her, he told me so. And Alex likes her."

"I told you they would. You like her too."

"Very much."

"So all's well on that front. But then on the way out the door, that's when I saw Abuela! With one of her lady friends. I got Stephanie the hell out of there as fast as I could, but--"

"But then you were dumb enough to hang around in the parking lot and have sex."

"Steph wouldn't take no for an answer. Long story. Don't ask. But like I said, we were finishing when I saw Abuela Rosa. And she didn't miss us, as I said. She wagged her finger at me and then went back inside. What I need to know is what she did _next_. What kind of questions is she asking? I don't want to call Papa, then he'll ask questions and--"

"And those kind of questions you don't want to have to answer to your father. I hear you. I saw her come in, Carlos; I was talking to Tio Ricardo and she sailed right by us. She had a big smile on her face and a spring to her step. She said she went out for air and her friend was at the table waiting for her."

"_Trouble_."

"No! I don't think so! She didn't ask Tio Ricardo _anything_. Or Alex. She's keeping your secret. Lucky Carlito--she _always_ kept your secrets every time you broke the rules. You're her favorite, I told you. _Me_ she'd rat out. _You_, she'll throw herself at anyone and tackle them to keep her precious Carlito safe."

"I'm telling you: _she's up to something_, Mat. She's not asking questions because she must have some other little scheme cooking in her head to find out the answers."

"I'll keep my eyes peeled and my ears open. I'll try to keep her off Steph's trail, as best I can. It shouldn't be difficult. So she's figured out you just met and that it's for sex--or so she thinks. Once you're gone, she has no reason to find Steph, right? If she thinks it's just sex, why track her down?"

"Why indeed? I hope you're right, Mat. But I have a bad feeling. Keep on your guard around her--I'm sure she's up to _something_. And that worries me, because she can do a lot of damage with her questions. Hell, it's going to be bad enough when Steph finds out I didn't tell her who everyone was; but I think she'll be so happy I'm home she'll get over it quickly. But if Abuela Rosa finds Steph while I'm gone and not able to do damage control--"

"You worry too much, Carlos. She has _no reason _to track Steph down. She flat out told your Mama and mine that you were going out on a booty call before you went overseas! She won't waste time on Steph if she thinks it's just sex. And you say she was coming in as you were leaving, so she didn't see much."

"She saw _enough_. She followed us out."

"Well, that's true. But that should prove the point to her that it was just some bimbo--pardon my French--"

"I know what you mean. Just _watch her--_and if you could give Alex and Papa the head's up to watch her too."

"Without giving them the details why."

"Exactly. The fewer family members who know the better. I just told you because I had to."

"Where's Steph now?"

"Sleeping for the time being. I just left her room a few minutes ago to get my gear packed for tomorrow and make arrangements with the front desk. And make the call to warn you……"

"Don't worry about Abuela Rosa! The worst is over where she is concerned. Steph is in the clear, I'm sure. You just worry about getting your ass home alive and unhurt, and let me handle Abuela."

"You never could handle her, even when you used to be cute," I teased. "She's too smart for you."

"Fuck you, Carlos!" he laughed.

"Take care of yourself, Mat. See you in 18 months. And watch over my Babe."

"That's a promise, Carlos. I'll make sure she gets the gifts you want sent, when you want them sent. I'll watch that POS car of hers, and replace it with the Porsche comes Christmas. I have your buddies' phone numbers if she needs help with Orr or anyone else. And I promise you, I'll tackle Abuela if I see her following Steph."

"_If_ you see her. Big 'if', Mat. _Don't underestimate her! _That old lady is so crafty no one has any idea."

And I knew whereof I spoke--because _I_ knew her secret now. I'd always had my suspicions, of course, but she'd covered beautifully every time I tested her. She could front with the best of them--but then I'd see a sparkle in her eye that told me she looked at it like a game and knew she was the winner so long as I had no proof. She may not _speak _English, but damn it to hell, my Abuela Rosa sure _understood_ it! Tonight was the final proof. _Damn it all to hell! I should have known better!_

I packed the remainder of my gear as I tried to think of what she'd do next--and what I could do to block her and keep Stephanie in the clear. _Okay, Carlos! Think! If you were Abuela Rosa_---I shuddered in horror at the thought. _Get out of her head now! _I did, gladly.

Okay. She knows _what_? Forget what Mat thought I was worried about--no, I had _bigger _worries than I'd spilled to him. _There are no coincidences. _Abuela turns up at _Rosa's_ tonight of all nights? She does it without giving Papa or Alex a heads-up she's coming? _No way in hell! _I was certain that the _only_ reason she'd shown up at the restaurant tonight was because she'd been listening at the door when I told Papa and Alex about Stephanie! I'd given the time and date of our dinner when I'd brokered the deal for their signature on the Will. When we'd gone into the study, I'd deliberately asked to speak in English because I thought there was a chance she'd be eavesdropping. I'd seen that glint in her eye when we passed by her and the other women in the family. I should have opened the door and checked….._Damn!_ I would have looked paranoid then. And she'd have disappeared into thin air and I'd have no proof she was there. But then she wouldn't have heard me!

My head was aching as I finished my packing, and I gave a quick look around the room. Yes, I had everything. I headed to 407, still turning the clusterfuck over in my mind. Abuela Rosa understood English. _Had to. _She would not have come to _Rosa's _if she hadn't. So then the next questions became: when had she started eavesdropping? And how much damaging information had she heard? She knew Stephanie was the woman I loved. _Had to. _I'd told them that flat-out when I'd brokered the meeting tonight. Abuela knew the mission was a bad one. _Had to. _Otherwise I wouldn't have needed the Will signed then and there. Damn, I didn't want her to worry. But then, she was going to be far too busy tracking down Steph to worry about my health. _Wait! Wait! _I'd called Steph _Stephanie Mazur _that afternoon! I hadn't known she was Stephanie _Plum_! And I hadn't introduced Steph tonight as _Plum_, either, so there was no way she could overhear Papa and Alex discussing it. That was a stroke of good luck that might save everything!

_Think, Carlos. _Abuela Rosa discovers that Steph is the woman I love, not some random one-night stand. So she'd want to find her, find out everything about her. What would she do? First, she'd look in the Newark phone book for _Stephanie Mazur_. One, she's looking for _Mazur_, not _Plum_. Two, she's got no way to know that Steph lives in Chambersburg, not Newark. She hits a roadblock. Next, she'd call the hotel and try to see if _Stephanie Mazur_ checked out, and probably offer a bribe to the clerk for her home address. But she's looking for a woman who doesn't exist! Another roadblock. She'd probably conclude I met Steph somewhere else and took her to my room. No way to know where. Next? She'd be eavesdropping on Papa, Alex and Mateo, hoping for information. Papa and Alex think Steph's surname is _Mazur,_ and they know nothing about how to contact her. Mat knows Abuela Rosa is looking for information, and he isn't talking to anyone. Another roadblock. She wouldn't hire a P.I.; but if she did, she'd still have nothing to give him. Not the correct name. No picture. No details on _anything_. She'd be turning in circles, and she'd have nothing in the end! There was no way she'd run into Steph on the street, nor would she be likely to wander into the company Steph works at as a lingerie buyer. Steph drives to and from work, she doesn't use public transportation. If her car broke down, Mat would buy her a new car quickly. And hell, Abuela Rosa wouldn't be hanging around on the streets of Newark hoping for a sighting of Stephanie! _Damn! I'd dodged a bullet!! _I could breathe easier, finally!

I plugged the key card into room 407 and carried my bags silently inside. Stephanie moaned softly, and stirred. "That you, Superman?"

"Yeah, Babe. I've got my gear. I'm heading downstairs to check out and make the reservations for 2010. Go back to sleep."

"Wake me up when you get back."

"Count on it, Steph." I gave her a gentle kiss and before I was out the door, I was pretty certain she was back asleep. Like I said: I tired her out.

I had no difficulty checking out at the front desk, but when I tried to make the advance reservations, I was met with shock and confusion.

"You mean April 6-12, 200_9_, sir?"

"No. I meant what I said: April 6-12, 20_10_. 18 months. Here's my credit card. I want room 407 reserved for Carlos Manoso and Stephanie--" I bit my tongue. _No. No loose ends! No chance that Abuela might link my name to Steph's and get Plum not Mazur! _"Carlos Manoso and _guest_. If the lady checks in before my arrival, she gets the key card and the room expenses all go on my card. Understand?"

"This is very irregular, sir! I don't think we can do that--"

"You're turning down my business?" I raised my voice deliberately, and the night manager hustled over immediately.

"Is there a problem, sir?" He gave the clerk an irritated look. "I'd be more than happy to assist you!"

"Mr.--" I read his nametag, "Mr. Acosto. I hope you can. I'm trying to make a reservation for myself and a female guest for April 6-12, 2010. 18 months from now. Room 407. An anniversary for my lady and myself. Is that a problem?"

He looked confused for a minute, then caught himself. _The customer is always right. _"No problem at all, sir. We'd be pleased to make that reservation for you."

I explained what I wanted, and he plugged the information into the hotel's reservations system. I handed over my credit card and moments later, I had a confirmation number for the reservation. I thought about it as I made my way to the elevator, and decided to make certain that I had backup in case there was a problem while I was gone. I stepped aside to an alcove and dialed my phone.

"Hey, Mat. Me again."

"What's up, Carlos?"

"I--uh--I need your help again."

"I live to serve."

"Funny. Look, Steph and I are trying to work out how we're going to meet in 18 months. She wants to meet at the hotel in room 407 April 6th, 2010."

"She thinks it's romantic, right?"

"How did you know?"

"Five years of intensive training by Lucia. Nothing surprises me anymore. What do you want me to do? Make the reservations when it comes time?"

"I just made them; but the thing is, the clerk gave me problems. I had to get the night manager to get it settled. I have a confirmation number for you."

"Let me grab a pen…..go ahead."

"HNX-39282-2940P. April 6-12th, 2010. Room 407. My American Express card."

"_Got it. _I'll call to check from time to time and make sure it's in place."

"Hell, for all I know the hotel itself might close in 18 months. Or change hands. I just want to cover all bets. In case."

"I hear ya. If it changes hands, I'll make sure room 407 is reserved for you and Steph in the new hotel."

"Don't give Steph's name, just 'and guest'. No chance for Abuela Rosa or Papa or anyone else to connect Stephanie _Plum_ with me. Just be sure the hotel has my card and all of the charges are paid by me, not her."

"Still covering every angle, you paranoid bastard."

"With reason. Don't trust Abuela Rosa, Mat. She's up to something, _I know it_."

"I trust your reading of her, Carlos. Hell, if anyone should know her, you should. What if the hotel is sold and closed? What then?"

"Then make reservations at another good hotel, room 407, and send Steph a note telling her the new hotel information. She'll know it came from me somehow, and she'll be there."

"Got it. Anything else?"

"Nah. Just another big thank you."

"De nada. I'm going to enjoy watching Abuela Rosa sniffing around for information. I'll give Papa and Alex a heads up to watch her, too. I've got your back, though."

"You always have, Mat. I owe you."

"You've long since paid me: my fees from those video games of yours alone will put my kids through college. You want to renew the contract when it expires?"

"Yeah, negotiate your usual killer of a deal."

"I had another idea driving home…."

"Which is?"

"Movie rights. I could look into it. See if anyone wants to make movies of the games. There's a big market for that kind of thing, these days."

"Go for it. And keep looking around for office buildings. I'm thinking around Trenton, instead of Newark."

"Gee, I wonder what the attraction of Trenton is, suddenly?"

"Smartass! I want to move quickly once I get back. Tank and Lester are getting out of Delta Force in less than a year. Bobby comes out when I do. We want to set up our security business with a minimum of hassle."

"I'll keep my eyes out--I have your specs already."

"Good. Oh, by the way--the fourth game was in the thumb drive I gave you earlier."

"I found it already. Getting sloppy, Carlos. You didn't tell me it was there."

"Too focused on Steph, I guess. I needed to know she was safe while I was gone. I have that assurance now, thanks to you, Mat."

"Stop saying thanks or I'll raise my fees."

"I'll pay them with no complaint; you're worth every cent."

"I'll hand the game in, complete the contract and take care of the new negotiations. Won't be a problem: those games are _genius_, Carlos. Hell, every kid around wants them! Adults, too! I can get you a hell of a better deal with this contract, now that you've more than proven yourself. I'll play hardball, too--you've got a suite of blue diamonds to pay for, after all. And a frickin' Porsche."

"I just wish I could see her face when she gets them. Just do what you think is best, Mat. I trust you. And I don't say that about many people."

"Back at you, Carlos! You take care of yourself. Watch your ass, okay? Just because you have the new Will doesn't mean we need to use it. Got that?"

"Understood. Say goodbye to Lucia and the kids for me."

"Will do."

We hung up, and I took the next elevator to 407. _My Babe was waiting! _


	47. Chapter 47

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 47

I came awake slowly, registering the unhappy fact that Carlos was not in the room. He was probably downstairs making the arrangements at the front desk. I briefly wondered what the clerk's face would look like when he or she learned that Carlos wanted to make a reservation 18 months in advance, then yawned and realized that I needed to make a trip to the little girl's room! Stumbling out of bed--damn, I was still weak in the knees from Carlos' enthusiastic lovemaking--I grabbed another one of the myriad of beautifully sinful teddies that my man had bought me. I did what I had to, freshened up my makeup and hair, then dressed in an aqua silk teddy that was trimmed with lace. It made me feel deliciously sexy, and look even better than that! I checked the time, and hurriedly placed a call to Tina to let her know the arrangements for tomorrow morning.

"Hey, baby girl," Tina's voice was soft and reassuring, "How are you holding up?"

"Reality is slowly hitting me," I admitted, "I hate to even _think _of Carlos leaving, but I can't stop time. I wish I could, though. God, I know I'm going to be a wreck, Tina. A total wreck. How can I function without him for 18 months? I can't do it! I just _can't_!"

"You can and you _will_. And before you know it, he'll be back and you'll be together again and life will be wonderful again---"

"You're full of shit and you know it."

"Honey, you need to think positively. You'll miss him like crazy, but he'll be all right. He _will _be. And you'll be together again and it'll be all right. More than all right. It will be all worth it. And while he's gone, I'll be here for you. So will the other girls. I know it's hard, sweetie. But you have to hold on to the memories you've made this weekend, and just think positive."

"Yeah, I guess. And what memories they are!" I sighed, overwhelmed. There was a long silence before I said, "I called to let you know about tomorrow. Our plans, I mean. About the airport. I'm temporarily alone. Carlos is downstairs reserving the room for us for 18 months from now…"

"_An Affair To Remember_. Omigod, how romantic!"

"Yeah, and we've got a backup plan just in case something happens to one of us on the way. I mean, not that I'm planning to get hit by a bus on the way to meet him, but--"

"Stevie, sweetie, no one is getting hit by a bus! You'll meet Carlos here in 18 months and have all your dreams come true. You're a good person, and you deserve to be happy. So you will be. That's all there is to it!!"

"From your lips to God's ears, Tina! Anyway, Carlos has to be at the airport at 10 tomorrow morning, so I was thinking what if we met at the front desk at say, 9am?"

"Works for me, Stevie. I'll be there."

"And um…I wondered if you could drive my car, so that way I can ride with Carlos to the car rental agency? Then you can pick us up and drive us to the terminal---"

"Fine, that sounds like a plan."

"Okay. That sounds good. Thank you."

"Don't thank me, sweetie, that's what friends are for."

"You're the best, Tina."

"So are you, Stevie. That's why I'm going to help you through the next 18 months minute by minute. That's a promise. I will be there for you every step of the way."

"Yeah. I know you will."

"And then in 18 short months, you're going to meet the man of your dreams for really _fabulous_ reunion sex and you're going to tell me all about it so I can live vicariously through you like I have this weekend."

"Yeah I know. And when he comes back, I promise I'm going to ask Carlos if he has any friends and then I'm going to set you up with the sexiest, most wonderful single guy he knows. How about _that_ for a thank you?"

"Works for me."

"Good. You deserve to be happy."

"I deserve a freaking _orgasm_, is what I deserve. One that isn't courtesy of my shower massager, if you know what I mean."

"He's out there, Tina. The perfect man, the perfect relationship for you. When you least expect it, just like how I met Carlos."

"Oh God, I hope so. And you--are you still going in to work tomorrow afternoon?"

"That's my plan, anyway."

"Are you going to be in any mood to work?"

"Hell no. Of course not. But it's better than sitting in my apartment crying my eyes out."

"Oh, Stevie, sweetie, I wish I could help! What about if I bring over a pizza tomorrow night and we have a girls' night in?"

"With lots of wine. I'll supply that, you bring the pizza. With everything on it."

"You've got a date--7:30 sharp."

"I'll be waiting. Now I'll check my phone messages and find out how many times my mother has called to scream at me for not cutting my weekend short and being at her beck and call--"

"You know what I think of your mother."

"I know. And I'm guaranteeing you that she won't appreciate my response to her latest tantrum. I'm turning over a new leaf, Tina. I'm not going to be walked over again. _Ever. _I'm going to level with my mother and she's going to learn that I'm my own woman. Hear me roar!"

"You _go_, girl!"

"I will. And I'll see you downstairs at 9 tomorrow morning."

"It's a date. Night, sweetie. Love you."

"Love you, too. Night, Tina."

I hung up, then checked my messages. Gee, only 8 from my mother. All at the top of her lungs. All erased in a matter of seconds. That went well!

Crossing to the bed, I straightened the covers--we'd made a complete mess, rolling around enthusiastically--and then it suddenly hit me: I had photos I hadn't seen yet! I ran for my digital camera, almost tripping over my own feet in my excitement. I sat cross-legged on the bed and scrolled through the photos of Carlos and me at Peddler's Village, a goofy smile glued to my face as I remembered the wonderful events of the day and saw once again the face of the man who had won my heart so completely. I was in love, no doubt about it: I was completely, totally and irrevocably in love for the first time in my life. This was it. Carlos was IT for me.

I heard the card in the door and looked up as the door opened, a welcoming smile on my face. Carlos looked surprised to see me awake--I guess he'd thought I was worn out from our love-making--and then he noticed that I held the camera in my hands.

"We never looked at them, did we?" he asked, crossing the room to sit at my side.

"They're all great. There are like a half a dozen of us together. I can't decide which one I like most. Here," I offered him the camera, "Check them out for yourself!"

He gave me a soft kiss, then took the camera from my hands and began to examine the photos carefully. I watched his face, and enjoyed his soft smile as he too remembered our fun-filled day. "I think _this_ one is my favorite." He showed me an extreme close up of us together in front of one of the shops. "I love your smile, Babe. It lights up my world, it comes straight from your soul."

"We're both smiling in that one," I sighed, "And that's my favorite photo, too, Superman. I'm going to have it blown up and framed and hang it in my apartment so I can look at you any hour of the day or night until you're back in my arms where you belong."

"I'd like to put them on my laptop, if it's okay with you, Babe?"

"So you can take them with you overseas and have me with you always?"

"Yeah. That's the idea."

"I like that thought. Here," I handed him the camera, "I'm yours. Forever and always."

He pulled me into a long soft kiss that curled my toes with what it promised for later. I watched him insert the memory card into the laptop and load the photos onto his computer. His fingers moved rapidly and knowledgably over the keys as he named the files and tucked them onto his hard drive. I was now officially a part of his Army world.

"Are you going to show your buddies those pictures?"

"Would you mind if I said yes, Babe?"

"Not at all, Superman. Especially since I'm wearing clothes in these photos."

He gave me a wolf grin. "Unfortunately."

"So. Tell me: do you like my teddy?" I flirted, slipping down one of the spaghetti straps and giving him a peek at even more cleavage.

"Oh, believe me, I like. A lot." He leaned in and dropped a long warm kiss on my bare shoulder. "I have good taste. In teddies and in women."

"You sure do. You have very good taste." I pulled him into a long deep wet kiss that had both of us breathing heavily by the time it finally ended. "You taste better than good. You taste absolutely _delicious_."

"Must be the flan," he teased. "We know how much you love dessert."

"I think it's more than just my love of dessert, Superman," I grinned, "It's that essential hot, sexy, magnificently delicious Carlos Manoso taste. No one tastes quite like him. I'm addicted, pure and simple."

"I like the sound of that. _Addicted_."

"Take your clothes off and get into bed. That's an order, soldier."

"You're giving me orders now? Since when?"

"I'm Wonder Woman. _I'm_ in control here, soldier."

"You _are_, huh? Is that how that works?"

"It is. Hey, you know what? You never told me: what's your rank and serial number, soldier?"

"Steph--"

"I'm not asking for top secret information. Really, I'm not. Just maybe a little bit of _un_privileged information that I'd be able to find out about any guy in uniform. If you ever wore a uniform, that is. Which, unfortunately, you _don't_. Since I happen to find men in uniform really hot and smokingly sexy."

"I'm a Captain, Babe."

"MMMMMM. _Captain_ Manoso. I like that."

"At your service, Wonder Woman."

"Take your clothes off, Captain. _Slowly. _Start with your shirt. Peel it off and toss it over to the other side of the room. You won't need it for the rest of the night."

"I won't, huh?" Carlos teased me by unbuttoning his shirt so slowly that I almost groaned from frustration. "So you want my striptease now?"

"Huh?" I almost short-circuited at the picture it made in my mind. Carlos. Striptease. Now. _Gulp._

"The one you asked for the first night we met. When you got your Drew Carey clone instead, remember?"

"Omigod! That was like a _lifetime_ ago," I breathed. And it was.

Carlos smiled a devilish smile. "I'm still commando, Babe."

"Good. It'll save us a lot of time, Superman."

Carlos had shed his shoes and socks and stood before me in only his jeans. Tight, molded to him like a second skin. And showing vividly all of the evidence of his arousal. "Now what?" his voice was husky, his eyes black as obsidian. "Tell me what you want me to do next, Wonder Woman."

"Take off your jeans. Slowly. Very…very…slowly. Show me what you've got for me. What you're going to give me the minute you're naked."

"No foreplay, Babe?"

"Not this time, Captain. I'm too hungry to wait."

"That sounds promising. You're at your absolute best when you're hungry."

"Glad you think so. Because I'm actually quite ravenous at the present moment."

"That's even better!" Carlos peeled his jeans down slowly, his hands pausing over his zipper as his huge cock strained to escape. "God, Babe, I want you so much it hurts!"

"I want you to rip off my teddy and show me how much you want me," I lay back on the bed, posing indecently, my arms behind my head and my legs akimbo. "I'm so ready for you, you have no idea! I'm totally wet. Just hot and wet and ready to be fucked by that monster cock of yours, Superman."

"Damn, Babe!" Carlos pushed his jeans down, and his enormous cock sprang to attention, promising me another Doomsday Orgasm any time now!

"Get over here, Captain Manoso!" I commanded, watching him eagerly as he tossed his jeans to the other side of the room to meet his shirt. "Put that gigantic cock of yours deep into my hot, wet pussy right now, and make me scream so loud they'll hear me in the lobby!"

"_Babe_," his grin was full-on wolf, and he crossed the room in seconds.

I couldn't take my eyes off his enormous cock. Omigod, Carlos has the best…I mean, THE BEST…cock on the planet! Bar none. The man could star in his own porn series! I had no doubt that his _Superman _nickname came from that, not from his heroics in war. But I'd get him to confess to that some other time. Right now, I had _other_ things on my mind. Like getting fucked to death by the biggest, hardest, thickest cock I'd ever imagined. And the handsome, sexy, smart, funny, loving, warm, romantic man who owned it. The man of my dreams. My lover. My everything.

"I love you," I blurted suddenly.

"I love you too, Babe." He paused, his fingers cupping my spaghetti strap, "Did you change your mind and now you want it slow and gentle?"

"Hell no." I wrapped my arms around his neck, my lips warm against his ear, "Fuck me senseless, Superman. Fuck me so hard and so deep and so fast that you make me downright dizzy."

"_Babe_." His voice deepened.

Did I mention that Carlos loved it when I talked dirty?

"Fuck me so good. Pound into me so hard that I damn near faint from how great it feels. God, I want you so much!"

Seconds later I heard a ripping sound and felt the cool air in the room hit my naked skin, as my tiny scrap of teddy disappeared over Carlos' muscular shoulder. His eyes were black as coal and his breath was ragged with excitement.

His hungry mouth came down on mine suddenly, and his tongue invaded my warm mouth roughly, conquering me completely. I moaned as our tongues began to dance together; his hands moving over my naked body, teasing me as he cupped my breasts and squeezed my nipples until they stood at attention and saluted proudly. Oh, yeah, this was _exactly _what I'd wanted! I pulled him closer, and his hands slid down, tracing my womanly curves slowly, sending my temperature soaring. He knew exactly where to touch me to send me into raptures: before I knew it, his hand was between my legs and I was dripping my honey onto his long talented fingers as he massaged my clit unmercifully.

"Omigod, omigod, _omigod_." My voice grew louder as he played with me, driving me closer and closer to the edge. "Oh, Carlos, _please_…….."

"Dance on my fingers, Babe," he coaxed me, "Show me what you like."

"You _know _what I like," I moaned, digging my nails into his back as my oh-so-necessary orgasm grew ever closer. And he did, too. "Oh that feels so fucking good! More, more!"

"Like _this_, Babe?" His fingers quickened their pace, and I damned near howled my agreement. Oh fuck, _yes!_ That was _exactly_ how I liked it.

"Omigod, omigod, _omigod_! Yes, yes, _yes_!" I ground my pelvis against his hand, and his magic fingers did their work expertly. More than expertly, actually. I was soaring off-planet in the most fabulous cock-less orgasm of my life when Carlos muttered something unintelligible and hurriedly reached for a condom. I guess I wasn't the only one who was ready to go over the edge….

He pulled away from me, and I heard the wrapper tear as Carlos donned the condom. I pulled him on top of me, and parted my legs. Almost immediately, he thrust his Superman-sized cock into my hot wet pussy. Then I _really_ started to howl in pleasure, as he began to ride me with a passion that lesser men could only dream of achieving. The man is not mortal, I tell you. He was incredible, and not only that, he was insatiable. I mean…I.N.S.A.T.I.A.B.L.E. In capital letters. O-mi-god!

I was coming off my third orgasm when I heard him groan and empty himself into the condom. My legs were tightly wrapped around his waist, and I refused to let him out, demanding a few more strokes until I could enjoy another orgasm. Carlos complied, his hands slipping down to take me repeatedly over the top after he'd finally pulled out of me. I lay back and he concentrated on satisfying me even more, as I greedily enjoyed orgasm after powerful orgasm. The man had fingers that were pure magic! Finally I was exhausted, and sobbed _enough_….

"God, Babe, you've got me hard again," he whispered.

And he was. _Omigod! _I, on the other hand, was a mindless pool of jello, so completely fucked that I didn't know my own name, let alone where the hell I was. I was drooling on my pillow, an ear-to-ear grin on my face and utter relaxation between my legs.

"I need you again," he told me, pulling off one condom and reaching for another hurriedly. "I can't believe how much I want you."

"More," I whimpered, my voice heavy with lust. I groaned as he plunged deep into me again and began thrusting faster and faster. There was no finesse this time around either: it was raw need, and we were both eager to reach a quick conclusion. It didn't take long: I sailed into a Doomsday orgasm as Carlos exploded again, and our cries echoed in the room, each louder than the other's.

Finally, our mutual lust satisfied, Carlos rolled off me and onto his back.

There was a long silence between us.

"Fuck, that was _goooood_." Carlos' voice was uncharacteristically unsteady.

"UMMMMMMMM." I couldn't even formulate words.

"Babe, you drive me insane."

"UMMMMMMMM." I just sighed, completely sated.

"I never imagined it could be this great," he admitted, rolling onto his side and giving me a measured look, "But it honestly gets better every time we're together. I can't believe it. How much I want you. How easily you make me lose control."

"UMMMMMMMM." I sure as hell hoped he took that as a reply, because it was the only conversation I was capable of having right about now.

"Babe?"

"UMMMMMMMM."

He laughed softly, "You haven't passed out, have you?"

I turned my head, and my cat-ate-the-canary smile told him what my words could not.

"Glad you enjoyed, Babe."

I closed my eyes and just sighed. There were no other words.

"Come over here, Steph," he said softly, pulling me to him so that our bodies rested side by side. I opened my eyes to see him staring tenderly at me with such love that I wanted to cry. "You're so beautiful, especially after you've come."

"Feel so good now," I whispered, the pleasure coursing through my veins, drugging me. "Hold me, Carlos."

He did, tightly, and his mouth dropped soft kisses on my forehead as my body nestled tightly into his. He hadn't disposed of the condom yet, and I felt it against my belly. "How many do we have left?" I finally managed to drawl sleepily.

"Enough, Babe," he assured me, his hands sliding down my back and cupping my ass, pulling him against me. "Lay here for a bit and catch your breath. Then I'll get rid of this and we'll start up again."

"UMMMMMM, yeah." I sighed, enthusiastically. More hot steamy sex! Oh, yeah, I could definitely go for that, all right!

"Did I tell you I love you lately?" he asked, his hands slowly stroking my body, sending the most delicious tingles from my head to my toes.

"Love you too," I whispered happily, cuddling closer to him. "You smell so goooooood."

"So do you, Babe," he smiled, "And you feel even better. Your skin is as soft as silk."

"Carlos?"

"Yes, Babe?"

"Did you really see me and decide you'd wait for me no matter how long it took?"

"Yeah, Babe, I did. No other woman would have done for me. Just you, Babe. I promise."

"I like that. A lot. You just wanted me."

"Still do, Babe. And I always will."

"This has been the best time of my life, Carlos. Every minute we've been together." I dropped a feather soft kiss on his chest, and he sighed happily. "I just want to let you know that every single second of this weekend has been absolutely perfect for me. You did everything right. Not only the sex--I mean--the sex was beyond fabulous, don't get me wrong. But it was even more fabulous because you are who you are. Not just a gorgeous sexy hunk of man with a fantastically huge and oh-so-talented cock---"

I heard him laughing softly.

"--but you're more than that. You're fun to be with. To tease. To talk to. To cuddle with. To spend time with outside of bed. You're smart. And you're sweet---"

"Am not."

"Are too. Hush, I'm talking. You're a fabulous dancer, and you're romantic as hell, and you make me smile even when I don't want to. And you're everything I ever dreamed of in a man, and even more---"

"I love you too, Steph."

"Yeah, that too. You love me. You understand who I am, you know everything about me and you love me because I'm me. And you make me believe I'm Wonder Woman and that I can fly and never crash and you'll always be there for me, no matter what."

"I will be, Babe. And you are Wonder Woman. I knew that from the first time I laid eyes on you. You are hot and spicy and sweet and sexy and surprisingly anything but the girl-next-door. You are gorgeous but you don't know just how gorgeous you are, which makes you even more desirable. You have more sex appeal in your little finger than most women have in their entire bodies, and you keep it all bottled up in reserve until I touch you…and then you smolder and melt over me like a lava flow."

"I'm a lava flow?"

"Molten lava, Babe. Torrents of sex appeal flooding everywhere."

"Sounds messy."

"Sounds dangerous. And you are. Dangerous to my heart. I couldn't help but fall deeply and irrevocably in love with you, Stephanie Plum. And I am. I always will be, until the day I die. Which won't be for a very very long time. Until you and I have, oh, say, fifty or sixty or seventy years of marital bliss together. How's that sound?"

"MMMMMM, sounds utterly scrumptious," I agreed, meeting his mouth for a soft wet kiss. "I feel like we're married already."

"Me too, Babe. In every way that counts, we are."

"And the honeymoon was magnificent," I congratulated him.

"It was, at that," he laughed. "Did you catch the bridal bouquet at your friend's wedding?"

"Nope, Miranda did," I pouted, "She elbowed us all out of the way. Pushy bitch."

"Well, I guess you have to wait 18 months for your wedding. You can start looking at gowns and figuring out colors and cakes and flowers and whatever else is involved, while you're waiting for me to come home."

"Are you officially proposing to me, Captain Manoso?"

"I am, Miss Plum. I love you most desperately. And I want you to do me the great honor of becoming my wife. Will you please marry me, Babe?"

"I will," I whispered, blinking sudden tears out of my eyes. "I'll marry you, Carlos. And I'll be your wife, and every day of my life I'll be proud to be Mrs. Carlos Manoso."

"I don't have a ring for you yet, Babe. But consider yourself officially off-the-market as far as any other man is concerned."

"I was off-the-market from the minute you kissed me," I admitted. "You did things to me that no other man ever has or ever could. And I'm not just talking physically."

He gave me a full-on wolf grin. "It was a hell of a courtship, wasn't it, Babe?"

"It was the best," I grinned back, "Not that we can tell our kids about that part of it. But yeah…it was pure magic."

"How many kids do you want, Steph?"

"Two or three, I guess. I never thought about it before. What about you?"

"Two or three will do fine. God, I can't wait to be married to you and raising our family. You'll make a wonderful mother."

"I'm not sure about that: I'm lucky if I remember to feed Rex."

"The kids will remind you, Babe. And I'll be out of the Army and able to help you."

"You're---you're going to leave the Army?"

"Yeah. After I get back, I'll have three months off, then one last six month tour of duty. Then I'm all yours. I'm going to start a security business with some Army buddies. We'll set up the company in the Trenton area----"

"Because of me?"

"Because of you, Babe. I'm not going to stay in the Army and risk anything taking me away from you again."

"I love you, Carlos."

"I love you, too, Steph."

"A security business, huh?"

"Yep. I even have a name all picked out for it: RangeMan. Like it?"

"Uh-huh. I really like the sound of that. You'll be home every night with me! And I know you'll be safe because you'll have your Army buddies to watch your back. Maybe I can even work for you?"

"Wonder Woman working in an office? You sure that would be enough for you, Steph? I think you could do a lot better if you put your mind to it."

"I could? You really think so?"

"Of course I do! You could do anything you want to do, Babe. You could start your own company, if you wanted to. Be CEO of Wonder Woman, Inc."

"I could. Why the hell not, right? Find something I like to do, and put work into it, and I'll be running my own business instead of taking orders of lingerie for E.E. Martin, right?"

"Right."

"Well, maybe you won't recognize me when you get back in town, Superman! I'll be a jet setting tycoon with a busy schedule and a male secretary who has to squeeze people in to see me, my schedule is so busy."

"Just as long as you tell him to keep his hands off you, and make sure you find time to squeeze me in, I'm fine with that."

"Speaking of squeezing you in, Superman…"

I reached down and gave him a few strokes where it counted, and before long we were working on filling up the third condom…….


	48. Chapter 48

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 48

_Carlos' POV_

The dreaded morning finally came, after a long night where Stephanie and I made love over and over, and talked more than most lovers do in years. Sleep was fleeting for both of us: whenever we fell into sleep, exhausted from lovemaking, we would cuddle side by side and doze for only a brief time before waking and seeking each other again. We wanted to use every precious moment the night had to offer, knowing it would be the last moments we'd have before I finally had to leave for war. I had never hated being a soldier more!

I kissed a sleeping Steph softly, then silently crept out of bed and into the shower, needing to start the process of becoming Captain Carlos Manoso again. I didn't bother to shave: I knew I was going to grow a beard while working with the small group of Al-Qaeda informants who were part of my upcoming mission to the Middle East. I had absorbed all of the information I needed to do my job--and if I told you what it was, I'd have to kill you. Literally. But I was already going to that dark and dangerous place in my head, and I knew it would take every ounce of cunning and every last skill I had to emerge alive at the end of my assignment. _Whatever it takes_, I reminded myself. My Babe is worth it….

Toweling off, I couldn't resist stepping to the door to gaze again at my own Sleeping Beauty. She lay on her side, her brunette hair tangled in curls and scattered over her shoulder as she slumbered on. I remembered the feel of my hands in that wild mass of auburn-colored hair, and smiled at the memory. Checking my watch, I began to dress, knowing that before long I'd have to wake Stephanie. She'd made me swear that I would not leave her without saying good-bye---I'd been tempted to sneak out, and she knew that: I dreaded seeing her cry. She promised she wouldn't make a scene at the airport, and I knew that she'd hold strong, at least until I left. Thank God her friend Tina was going to be there to comfort her!

Finally dressed, I picked up the phone to order room service. I needed coffee, and I was sure Steph would need it too. Knowing her appetite, I ordered a big breakfast for both of us. Orange juice, French toast, pancakes, bacon, sausage, eggs, croissants, fruit salad, and muffins. Hell, after the night of physical activity we'd had, we were both in need of sustenance. As I hung up the phone, Steph began to stir.

"Hey, sleepyhead," I smiled, moving towards the bed, "You awake yet?"

"UHHHHHHH," came a small groan, "What time is it?"

"7:30 or so, give or take. Time to get up and get dressed, Babe."

"Come back to bed."

"If I do, I'll never climb back out--and we both know it."

"Why do you think I asked?"

"Steph--"

"I know, I know, I promised. I'll be a good girl. But you're gonna owe me for this."

I smiled, "I'll pay up, I promise--with interest. I ordered room service, Babe. You have time for a shower first."

"Take a shower with me."

"Babe--"

"I know, you'll never climb out of it, and we'll both turn pruney and die in there."

"Not that grizzly picture before coffee, Babe, please!"

"Good thing you're planning on marrying me. Because nothing but the thought of you as my husband is going to get me through any of this."

"Whatever it takes, Babe. Remember that promise. I will."

Steph sighed, climbing out of bed and tossing her wild curls over her shoulder. "How scary is my hair, on a scale of one to ten?"

I laughed, "Off the charts, Babe. But you look gorgeous, nonetheless."

"Good save, Superman." She came into my arms and nibbled softly at my ear, "No uniform, huh? I'll bet you look damned good and hot in a uniform, Captain Manoso."

"I look better out of one," I teased, loving the peal of her responding laughter. I used the opportunity to explore her silken curves with my hands, and felt myself becoming hard at the feel of her warm and naked in my arms.

She bit my earlobe, and whispered, "How about a quickie before breakfast? It works better than coffee to wake you up, Superman. Guaranteed."

My body was already responding to her, and we both knew it. I was hopelessly addicted to Stephanie; I marveled at how quickly she could arouse me, despite my notorious iron control.

"Is that a _yes_, soldier?" Her hands moved over my crotch, caressing me, teasing me until I was so hard I ached for her.

"God, Babe, what you do to me!"

"You do the same thing to me, Carlos. I can't keep my hands off you! I want you again!"

"I don't want our last goodbye to be some quick fuck against the door, Babe."

"Don't get so romantic on me now, Superman! Anyway, we're not fucking, we're making love. We're just being creative about where we do it. And we don't have to be really quick about it--unless you keep talking and wasting more time, that is--"

I took her mouth with a ferocity that stunned me, and felt her ignite instantly. Our need was all-consuming, the fire out of control as our hands sought each other and my clothes were quickly shed. We fumbled only once: looking for a damned condom, which was in an almost-empty box on the nightstand. Before I knew it, we were back in bed and I was inside her, my body molded to hers as I pounded in and out of her hot center. We both moaned in ecstasy as her nails scraped tracks down my back and I rode her mercilessly. How the hell I was going to be without her for 18 months I had no clue!

Stephanie yelled, "Oh God! Oh God! _OMIGOD_!"

I felt her coming around me, her walls tightening around my cock powerfully. I exploded with her, my hoarse cry mixing with hers. It was phenomenally good. No other words would describe it. I rolled off her, and we lay side by side, dazed for a few moments.

"Damn." I finally managed. It was an enormous effort to get the word out.

"Wow." Steph exhaled. "That was---" She finally gave up.

"Yeah."

"I'd say we should do that more often, but--"

I sighed, "I hate leaving you, Babe. I hate it. I wish I could resign right now and roll over and make love to you for the rest of our lives. But I can't."

"I know. I'm a big girl, Carlos. I live in the real world. I know you have to go. I know all of it, and I don't regret a moment of this weekend, even though I'm going to be a mess for the next 18 months. I know you'll come back to me. And we'll have this room and we'll make love for a week---"

"I left the reservation number on the table," I remembered, "It's billed on my American Express card. You can check in at noon on April 6th 2010 and wait for me, and we'll start the rest of our lives together, Stephanie. Meantime, you spend those 18 months getting your life the way _you_ want it to be--to hell with your mother and the Burg biddies and anyone else who tells you that you can't be Wonder Woman!"

"I will, I promise. You make me feel that I can do anything!"

"You can. You will. I have faith in you, Babe."

"And I have faith in you, Superman. You'll kick Al-Qaeda's ass and come back to me just as you promised me you would. That's what your mission is, isn't it? You're going up against them, aren't you?"

Damn! She was no fool. "I can't talk about it, Steph. You know that."

"I know. I do. You're in Delta Force, aren't you? The guys who go in first…"

I sighed. Hell. The woman was sharp. She missed _nothing_!

"Melinda's uncle is Delta Force. You have that same look in your eye sometimes that I've seen in his. And you don't wear a uniform. And your hair is longer--"

"Yeah, Babe. Not for public discussion, but I'm in Delta Force." I'd told my father and brother, as well as Mateo. Why not admit the truth to the woman who was going to be my wife? "I have 27 long months left before I can get out. I used to dread the thought of leaving…now I can't wait for the day because it will mean I can stay with you for as long as I live."

"For better for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part."

"Yeah." I took her hand and played with the beautiful opal ring that now sparkled on the ring finger of her left hand. "Till I can replace this with a wedding band, and then I can stand up in front of the world and proclaim how much I love you, Stephanie Michelle Plum."

"And I love you too, Ricardo Carlos Manoso. I love the thought of being Mrs. Carlos Manoso. And when I start my own company, I'm going to give RangeMan a call and have you do all of my security. That's a promise, Superman."

"I'll be happy to guard your lovely body, Wonder Woman. _Personally_."

We were interrupted from our playful bantering by a knock at the door. Room service had arrived! Stephanie ran for the bathroom, as I threw on my jeans and opened the door. Stepping out of the way, I watched as a young man carefully rolled in a trolley which contained a mouth-watering assortment of food. I was suddenly famished, and had a feeling my Babe would feel the same! I pulled out my wallet and paid the bill in cash, not wanting it to be added to Steph's room tab. Tipping the waiter generously, I locked the door behind him and called out the all-clear to Steph.

She emerged, clad in a short satin robe that set off the color of her Caribbean blue eyes while showing a very generous length of her gorgeous legs. "What-all did you get us? I'm really hungry!"

"I got the works," I took the lids off the plates to display the bounty. "French toast. Eggs. Bacon. Sausage. Pancakes. Muffins. Croissants. Fruit salad. Orange juice. Coffee. You name it, I ordered it. See something you like?"

"I'm in Heaven! I'm wondering what _you're_ going to have, because _I'm _going to do major damage on everything!" Her eyes sparkled as we sat down to enjoy a calorie-filled breakfast. Hell-we'd earned it!!

"We meet Tina downstairs at 9," Steph said, generously swirling syrup over her French toast. "We can check out while we're here in the room, using the TV. We'll save time that way."

"Saving time is good," I agreed, slicing into a stack of pancakes.

"It is. We can save more time by showering together," she grinned devilishly, "Since I got you all hot and sweaty, and I need a shower anyway."

"No funny business in the shower," I warned her darkly. "We don't have time."

"No worries--Tina will wait for us with no complaint." She giggled as she speared a sausage. "We women understand the flexibility of the whole time-thing. Men don't get that, somehow."

I laughed, "You realize your friend is going to know what we're doing while we're keeping her waiting?"

"Of course she is! She's going to want details, too."

I blanched.

"What? You look like someone hit you with a two by four! Men talk about women, right? Women talk about men."

"They do?"

"Sure they do. With really really really good friends. But don't worry, I'm not going to say anything to embarrass you. I'm just going to tell her that you're fabulous, a Cuban Sex God, the hottest man on the planet, and I'm wildly madly passionately in love with you. See? No big deal."

I grinned. "I like that--especially the Cuban Sex God part, Babe."

"All true. Plus, she's seen you in the flesh, so to speak. Not as much flesh as _I _have, thank God. So she'll know I'm not exaggerating. Eat your pancakes, they're getting cold."

"Are you going to tell her we had sex in the parking lot of _Rosa's_?"

"Of course I am," she admitted, "Having never had a quickie in public before, I have to brag about my daring sexploits to someone who won't tell my mother and get me banned from dessert for life! Tina won't tell a soul. And she lives vicariously through me. Until you come back and introduce her to a hot friend of yours, that is. So start thinking who you can match her with. I promised her, and I always keep my promises."

"You promised her, huh? Well….." I thought carefully for a few minutes. "I do know a few New Jersey guys who are single and looking to settle down after they get out of the service. I could maybe be persuaded to do some match-making."

"I'm good at persuasion," she winked, "We'll take up negotiations in the shower. Meantime, pass me the muffins. There's a carrot cake muffin there just begging for me to take a bite or two…or three!"

We finished breakfast, making a very sizable dent in the food that I'd ordered. Steph wrapped up a few croissants and muffins to take home with her, "for Rex" she teased. Then we headed to the shower--with a condom at the ready--for our "negotiations".

Steph easily managed to secure my cooperation in her match-making endeavors with some very creative persuasion. By the time we emerged from the shower, we were both satiated completely and in total agreement that my buddy Lester would be a perfect match for Tina. He loved fun-loving brunettes, and I knew that he was tiring of his days as a "player" and was looking to settle down. I'd snap a picture of Tina with the camera in my phone and start my sales pitch when I next met up with him.

It wasn't long before we were dressed and packed and ready to check out. The moment we'd been dreading was approaching fast. Stephanie bit her lip, her eyes clouded, and her voice trembled, "I guess I can check out here on the TV, huh? Then we can call the desk for the porter."

"I can manage our bags, Babe. There isn't much here."

"Okay, I guess. If you want to. Or otherwise we can wait for the porter…"

"Just delaying the inevitable, Steph. It's after 9, let's get downstairs before we have to speed to the airport. I need to be there by 10 or so to do the security check-ins."

"Yeah, you're right." She sighed, picking up the remote and efficiently using the check-out system on the TV. "Let's go, Superman. You've got a plane to catch. And I've got to get to work."

As we walked down the corridor, I glanced over at her. "You're going to work after this, Babe? Are you sure you're going to be in any shape to get things done today?"

"Probably not," she admitted, "But then, buying lingerie isn't all that stressful. I'll just be looking at samples and making orders--or giving turn-downs--that's about it. It doesn't take a lot of effort on my part, truth be told. But don't tell anyone that I told you that life as a lingerie buyer isn't that sexy or exciting."

"I won't tell a soul," I assured her, "Do you like your job, Steph? It doesn't sound like it."

"I like it okay," she shrugged as we stepped onto the elevator, "It pays the bills. The people are nice. Except for that bitch Gladys and our Assistant Manager Mrs. Lebowitz. They're the only two that make EE Martin a pain in my ass sometimes."

"And what a gorgeous ass it is."

"Thank you, kind sir. Your ass is pretty damned fine itself."

"My ass is not my best part, Babe," I teased wickedly.

"Oh, all too well do I know," she groaned, rolling her eyes. It was a damned good thing we were by now alone in the elevator. "I'm lucky I can even walk straight after the weekend we had! Do you realize we went through box after box of condoms this weekend? Non-stop hot sweaty balls-to-the-walls sex! That's--that's--"

"Fantastic."

"Incredible."

"Satisfying."

"Unbelievable," Steph finished, as the door opened on the lobby. "I haven't had this much sex in my life. Hot or otherwise. I'm lucky I'm not bow-legged now!"

I smirked, "I did kind of wear you out, didn't I?" I was proud of myself. _Hey, it's a man thing!_

Steph rolled her eyes, probably thinking exactly what I'd just said. "I did some damage myself, soldier."

She had, at that. "I've got your fingernail marks all down my back," I acknowledged, "I don't know how I'm going to explain them…."

At that, she snorted. "You're going to wear them as a badge of honor, you stud! Every guy who looks at them is going to know exactly how you got them. And you're going to grin a mile wide while you go out of your way to display them for one and all."

"True," I admitted, laughing with her. "Not that I'm going to display them all that openly. But, still--"

"You're such a man!"

"Complaining, Babe?"

"Not in the least," she winked, as we made our way over to Tina, who sat patiently waiting in the lobby. "Here we are, Tina! Sorry we kept you waiting!"

Tina laughed good-naturedly, "You're not the least bit sorry, Stevie! Don't try to bullshit me. I'm all checked out. You ready to go or do you need to check out here?"

"No, we're fine," I said as Steph handed the key cards in at the front desk. Thankfully Manuel Munoz, the day manager, was otherwise distracted and didn't see us checking out. I sure as hell didn't need him mentioning my father to me--or mentioning Stephanie to anyone I knew!

We headed out to the parking lot, where Steph handed Tina her car keys. We walked Tina over to Steph's POS Chevy Nova, and I packed Steph's bag and Tina's into the trunk.

"Wait a second," I said before Tina climbed in the car and we headed off. "I need a picture." I took out my cell phone and both women did a double take as I aimed the camera at Tina instead of Stephanie. "Sales material." I grinned, "You wanted a hot buddy of mine for your own, yes?" Tina smiled and nodded eagerly. "Well, I'm working on it for you." She winked at Steph then gave me a blinding smile as I took the picture. Yes, I was more than sure that Lester would be _very _interested in Tina!

"Thanks, Carlos," Tina said, then leaned over to give me an awkward hug, "Take care of yourself, okay? Be safe. I'll watch over your girl here till you get back to her yourself."

I smiled gratefully, then gave her a soft peck on the cheek, "Thanks for being such a good friend to my Babe, Tina. I'll find a terrific guy for you. That's a promise."

We watched as she slid into the Nova, then Steph and I walked hand in hand to my rental Porsche four rows over. I packed my duffle bag in the back before helping Stephanie into the passenger seat, then carefully shut the door. I'd asked her if she wanted to drive the Porsche, and I'd watched her war with herself over the answer. She'd finally decided her nerves would get the best of her, so I'd agreed to do the driving myself. But I knew damned well that she loved the car and ached to be behind the wheel. Well, before too long, she would have a Porsche of her own! I smiled as I latched the seat belt and started up the car.

"Thanks for letting me come to the airport with you," she said quietly. "I'd have really hated to say goodbye in the lobby and miss any minute at all that I could have with you before you left."

"No thanks necessary, Babe. I'm glad you wanted to come," I pulled the car out and swung over to the row that Steph's car was parked in. As arranged, Tina pulled out behind us and we drove to the car rental agency in a two car caravan. Steph and I made small talk for a few minutes, then I reached over and took her left hand in mine. "I meant what I said about replacing that ring with a wedding band, Babe. I want to marry you as soon as I can when I get back. So start looking at bridal magazines and finding a dress and doing whatever it is you women do to plan a wedding."

She smiled radiantly, "It'll keep my mind occupied, for sure. Imagining us together, walking down the aisle, you in a tuxedo and me in a gorgeous ivory wedding gown. Dancing at the wedding. Drinking champagne toasts to each other. Making love for days on end. Waking up to each other and smiling and then reaching for each other and making love again."

"Kinda like what we just did this weekend," I teased. "Minus the wedding gown and tuxedo, that is."

"Now that you think about it," Steph laughed, "It kinda is. Making promises of forever. Getting to know each other better than we've ever known anyone before in our lives. Sharing our lives together. Being happy. Having adventures together. Just looking over at you and seeing you there, smiling at me. Knowing you love me. Knowing I love you. That I will for the rest of my life."

"Pretty amazing outcome for something that never happened, isn't it?" I said, reminding her of her words the night we first met.

"God, I remember saying that," she said, shaking her head in amazement. "I was so sure we could just have a one-night stand; with no emotional involvement, just great sex and no one would ever know about it. We'd just have that one night together, and then go on our merry way and never look back. Pretty naïve of me, huh?"

"Not naïve, Babe. That happens quite a bit between men and women. With various stages of regret afterwards. But you and I were different. You and I just--we were just meant to meet. Right now. At this moment of our lives. For whatever reason, I walked into the bar then and you stepped out to get another of those Chocolate Martinis that you love, and I saw you, and that was it for me. I wanted you. I had to have _you_, no other woman would do it for me. And when I did finally have you, I realized that no matter what, I couldn't let you go. Ever. That you were the woman I'd dreamed of meeting for my whole life. The woman who completed me. Who made me happy. Who gave me hope. Who was willing to wait and have faith that I'd come back. You do know that I will be back, don't you, Babe? You believe me?"

"Absolutely. I know you'll move Heaven and Earth to get back to me. And you're Superman, so you'll do it. And I'll be waiting for you. No matter what. Because you're IT for me, too, Carlos. The man who completes me. My soul mate. My everything. I love you."

"I love you, too." I squeezed her hand, "I always will. It's a miracle, and that's all that matters. Fate or Destiny or God or the Universe or whatever force brought us together on Friday evening--I thank God for it. All of it. It was all so meant to be! Me deciding to spend the weekend here with the girls in the office to celebrate Stella's wedding. And if Stella hadn't gotten married _this _weekend---"

"But she did. And as you say, _that's all that matters_. We can invite Stella and her new husband to our wedding. Invite all your office girlfriends, if you want. Hell, invite that bitch Gladys and whoever on else! Invite everyone! I want a huge party to tell the world that you're my woman and you're going to be mine for the rest of our lives!"

Steph smiled, "A huge party, huh? Well, that's a change! Usually it's the woman who wants a big wedding and the man who wants to keep it small. Are you sure about that huge party remark, Carlos? How many people are we talking here? Do you have a big family? Because I do."

"I've got tons and tons of relatives, Babe," I admitted, "And all of them would be more than willing to come to New Jersey for my wedding. So you see, you're not the only one with a big family. We can have a huge party. Or a small intimate ceremony with just us and our best friends. Whatever makes you happy, Steph. I want to make you happy. Always."

"You do make me happy. Just by being you, you make me very very happy."

"Good. I'm glad. Because making you happy is the most important thing in the world to me, Babe. I'll do anything I can to do that. Think about what you want to do and then you tell me when I come back. And we'll do it that way. Just be my wife and spend the rest of your life with me……."

"That's what I want. To have your children. To wake up day after day in your arms and climb into bed with you every evening. To look across the room and see your face and know that you're mine and you have my back and I have yours, and we're partners in life for as long as we live. Pretty exciting mission, Captain Manoso, yes?"

"The best. Sign me up, Miss Plum. I'm the man for the job."

"You are. I knew that the minute I laid eyes on you. And I have very high standards when it comes to that sort of thing. You are very very definitely the right man for the mission, Captain."

We pulled into the parking lot of the car rental agency just then, and I heard Stephanie inhale softly. Time was running out for us, and all I could do was stand by and let it happen. I've never felt more helpless in my life.

"I love you, Babe. And if I don't kiss you in the next few minutes---"

"Pull over," Steph demanded. "Right here. Park here and we can walk the rest of the way."

I did as she asked, and seconds later we were in a passionate kiss. It took every ounce of control I had to pull away. "Damn it to hell, Babe, I can't help what you do to me."

"We have to be good, we're in public now and unlike _Rosa's_, this is not the time or place to get carried away." She didn't sound too convincing.

Tina had pulled Steph's car into a parking place next to us, and she waited in the car giving us privacy. I sighed, opening the door and climbing out slowly. Moments later, I opened the passenger door and my Babe stepped out, nibbling on her lip.

"I got lipstick on you, hold still," she said quietly, wiping the lipstick away with her finger. "I'm not going to cry. I'm not going to cry."

"I'm not making it easy for you, Babe. Sorry."

"Hey, I know exactly how you feel, Superman. It's good to see I'm not alone."

"You going in with me, or waiting with Tina?"

"In with you, of course. Any minute I can grab."

I pulled the duffle bag out of the Porsche, and locked it behind me. Tina popped the trunk of Steph's Nova, and I loaded my bag inside. She rolled down the window and called out, "I'll wait here. Take your time, kids."

Didn't I wish!

Steph and I walked hand in hand to the office, and honestly I think both of us were grateful for the longer walk that the bad parking spot had made necessary. We were walking slowly, wordlessly, our hands clasped tightly.

"This sucks royally," sighed Steph, finally.

"Amen, Babe." I looked over, and smiled despite myself: her lips were in a childish pout. God, she looked _adorable_!

She looked over at me then, and her eyes widened. "What?"

"You look cute."

"Cute? Not sexy? _Cute_?"

"You're cute. You may even be adorable."

"You're insane."

"I'm in love. I'll bet you were irresistible when you were a kid. Daddy's Little Girl, yes?"

"How did you know?"

"It's the mouth that does it, Babe. That bottom lip of yours. You have that little pout that just makes a man want to give you the world."

"MMMMMM," she grinned, "Giving information to the enemy, Superman. I'm going to file that little tidbit away to use comes April 6th, 2010 and afterwards."

I laughed, then pulled her to me so that we finished the last part of the walk with our arms around each other. It felt good to have her body pressed against mine. Once again, I memorized the feel of her, the smell of her, and locked it all away in my memory for the long months ahead. I didn't feel much like Superman anymore…..


	49. Chapter 49

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 49

"I didn't embarrass him, at least," I sniffled to Tina, who waited patiently while I blew my nose again and tried to halt the non-stop flood of tears that had begun moments after Carlos had disappeared through the security gate and been lost to my view. "I promised him I wasn't going to make things difficult for him by crying, and I kept my word."

"You did great, sweetie," my friend assured me, giving me a hug that made me stop sniffling long enough to flash her an appreciative smile.

"I did, right? I was really strong and supportive, wasn't I? That's what I was aiming for, anyway. I didn't want to be weak and whiney. Carlos would have been completely mortified!" So would I: Wonder Woman doesn't do weak and whiney--not _ever_!

"He'd have understood, Stevie, because he loves you. But you were very strong and you made him proud. Didn't he say that?"

He had, indeed. We'd embraced just moments before he'd gone through the security check-point and he'd said, "Proud of you, Babe." Then he'd given me a long tender kiss that would have done Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr proud, and said, "Love you, Steph. Remember to fly while I'm gone, Wonder Woman. See you on April 6th, 2010."

I'd managed by some miracle to keep myself from bawling like a baby, and I'd responded, "Love you, Carlos. We've got a date. And I'll kick ass if you will, Superman."

He'd winked at me, flashed me that blinding smile of his, and sailed through the security gate moments later. Two women carting their luggage had literally walked into walls watching him. A third had caused a massive pile-up at the security gate by gaping at him and freezing like a statue. Why? Ummm…she was Airport Security! No female was immune from Carlos' charms, it appeared. Hell, I suspected the Flight Attendants would run their carts into each other the moment they saw him. If they even served food these days on flights. It had been so damned long since I'd flown, I really didn't know if they even served food on flights these days….

"Thanks for being here for me, Tina. I don't know what I would have done without you."

"You'd have been there for your man, same as you were with me here. That's who you are, Stevie. Strong and dependable. Carlos knows that, so do I. It's going to be rough, but you'll get through the next 18 months. And before you know it, he'll be back and you'll be---_wait_! Show me that ring! Girl, are you holding out on me? Is that an engagement ring?"

"Technically, it's a 'promise' ring," I explained, showing her the elegant clustered opal ring that Carlos had surprised me with on Sunday. "It's his promise to me that he'll come back, and then we'll be married. He told me to plan the wedding, big or small, find my dress, figure out exactly what I want and we'll be married as soon as he comes home! And then he's going to leave the Army in 27 months and start his own security company called RangeMan! It's going to be in Trenton with some Army buddies of his--including your yummy Lester, by the way--and two other guys named Tank and Bobby. And he wants a life with me and kids. And, omigod, Tina, _I_ want them too! I never thought I'd say that, but when we started talking about it, all I could think of was having a little baby with Carlos' mocha latte skin and chocolate brown eyes and dark brown hair and that smile he gives when he's really happy! I sound like a dork, don't I?"

"You sound like a woman in love," Tina soothed me as we started walking, "And he's a man in love, so that makes two of you perfect for each other. Are you going to tell your mother you're semi-engaged?"

"Are you kidding me? _Hell, no! _What exactly am I going to say? 'Guess what, Mom, I picked up a hot guy at a bar over the weekend and we decided instead of the planned one-night stand that we had, we'd get married instead? I haven't met his family, he's gone for 18 months in the military, and I had a weekend with him where we spent most of our time having blazing hot sex!'"

"That wasn't exactly how I'd phrase it, kiddo," Tina laughed, pulling me toward the exit of the terminal towards the parking garage. "But you're going to have to explain that ring on your engagement finger somehow."

"I'll wear it around my neck on a chain whenever I'm around her," I decided.

"Not very practical," came her reply, "The way the Burg gossips, according to you, if you're seen anywhere wearing that ring on that particular finger, it's going to get back to your mother pretty fast."

"Shit." She was right. The Burg biddies had eyes everywhere and very big mouths. And my mother was always on the alert for new gossip--especially about her own daughter. I was going to have to come up with another plan of action.

"I'm going to say I love the ring and it only fits on that finger." I decided, glancing at Tina.

"Then she'll ask you where you got it and if you bought it yourself. And tell you to have it sized at the jewelers to fit the finger on your _right _hand. You said she wants you married off to a Burg guy--that means she wants guys to see that particular finger of your left hand empty so they know you're available."

Damn. Right again. "OK, here's the thing--I can't tell her about Carlos or she'll give me no rest trying to find out about him. And she'd be mortified if she found out how we actually met."

"What's your alternative? Say nothing now and you're going to have to introduce him in 18 months out of thin air, sweetie! Then announce you're engaged to marry this stranger she's never heard of before! Best you mention him _now. _Say you met him at the wedding. Technically, it's not a lie: you did dance with him at the wedding. Just leave out the part where you picked him up in the bar for no-strings sex. Say he's in the military and gone on a tour of duty for 18 months, but you've fallen in love and so you're waiting for him."

"That might work on _your _mother, Tina, but it won't work on _mine_." By this time we were in the parking garage, and I spotted my Nova two aisles over. It was the saddest looking POS in the lot. "Damn, do you know Carlos offered to let me drive his rental Porsche? Not once, but _twice_, mind you!! And dumb-ass me turned him down."

"It looked almost as hot as he did," Tina agreed, "That's a hell of a car, Stevie. Why'd you say no?"

"Nerves. I got chicken." I looked over at Tina hopefully, "You drive, OK? I'm not really up to it right now."

"Understood," she nodded, opening the doors and climbing into the driver's seat. "You still up for work today?"

"Yeah. I have two meetings this afternoon. One is with Dawson Books, he makes the most God-awful granny panties you've ever seen. Poor guy thinks that women actually want to look like that! The other is with Marianne Preston, who I already know I want to order from. One big 'no thanks', one big 'yes please'. End of day. Then we're on for pizza and wine, yes?"

"Yes, and you can vent and whine all you want and I'll be on your side totally."

We pulled out of the lot and I opened my purse to get the parking fee. I spotted my camera, and grinned, "OMIGOD! I totally forgot to tell you! I took the camera to Peddler's Village in Pennsylvania on Sunday and got the most fantastic pics of Carlos and me together! There were a few that we absolutely perfect! He loaded them up to his laptop, and I'm going to have them printed out and framed in my apartment. And one special one will be in my bedroom so he's the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see at night."

"That's very romantic," Tina agreed, handing the toll collector our parking fee. "I'm glad for you, Stevie. But this gets back to how you plan to handle it. Don't you think your mother is going to want to know who the gorgeous guy in the framed pictures is? What are you planning to do? Run around and pull the pictures off the wall and hide them every time the doorbell rings? You don't want to live like that. Tell her about him and get it over with."

I bit my lip and sighed. She was right: I was a grown woman, not a naughty child. I had no reason to be ashamed of my love for Carlos. No, my mother wasn't going to be pleased how I met him. She'd be less pleased to find out that I planned to marry a man who wasn't from the Burg. But I had a right to live my life as I chose, and it was about time I started to be Wonder Woman! "You're right. I'm going to tell her."

"Good for you!" Tina gave me a quick pat on my hand, "What's the worst she can do?"

"Cut me off from dessert for life," I sighed unhappily. Damn! I'd really miss the pineapple upside down cake. "I guess I need to find a good bakery."

"You need to find a knock-em-dead wedding _dress_, is what you need to find! You need to start buying wedding magazines and cutting out pictures of what you want and making plans! Didn't Carlos tell you to start planning your wedding? So, you do that and you'll be so busy you won't miss the desserts your mother makes. Anyway, you'll fit into a smaller sized dress with less sweets, right?"

Right. If I wasn't hopelessly addicted to Ben and Jerry's and TastyKakes. "I think maybe I'll do the wedding planning on the down-low for a bit. But I'm definitely wearing the ring. On my left hand. And to hell with what the Burg thinks! I'm not going to be such a chicken anymore! I've got a gorgeous sexy wonderful sweet loving man who wants to marry me. And he's a hero off fighting for his country. And anyone who doesn't approve of it and us can just kiss my royal ass!"

"You _go_, girl!" Tina woo-hoo'd, "That's the kind of spirit I want to see from you! Kick ass and take no prisoners! After all, if you hadn't been brave and taken the lead Friday night, you'd never have met Carlos, would you? Instead, you'd have sat for hours with us watching that God-awful stripper, and then joined us upstairs for a pay-per-view showing of 'Naked Came the Stranger' where the girl-on-girl action was hotter than the so-called stud they had doing the women. OK, so you missed 'Mamma Mia' and it was great, but we can always do that again one weekend. You need to let your inner self out more often, Stevie. That's what will make you happy! That's how you fly!"

I smiled. Did I have a smart friend or what? "I love you, Tina. You're the best."

"Back at ya, Stevie." Tina grinned, "Now tell me what Carlos said about this Lester…."

I gave her the information Carlos had shared with me about his long-time friend, and Tina decided he was definitely her kind of guy. We pulled into EE Martin's parking lot moments later, and we parked next to Tina's car so she could move her luggage into her trunk. Then we headed inside to work.

I stopped at the ladies room to refresh my makeup, and erase all traces of my crying. I looked a bit like I had a cold, but nothing really scary. The day went pretty much as I'd expected: the girls from the wedding party gathered around my desk for details of my time with Carlos. I shared the photos from Peddler's Village, and everyone ooh'd and aah'd over how handsome he was and what a great pair we made. I dodged the really intimate questions about how great he was in bed (although Ruby was persistent), but displayed my beautiful ring proudly and related that it was a 'promise to return' ring and that the return would bring an engagement and a wedding in 2010. Everyone was happy for me, and I was beaming when I took the meeting with Dawson Books.

He wasn't so happy. "This is the third time you've declined to order any of our merchandise, Miss Plum. Can I ask you, candidly, why?"

I debated before I answered. Dawson Books was a nice guy, in his early sixties and completely out of touch with what most women today wanted to wear for lingerie. He was so totally clueless that his granny panties (as we called them) were kind of a joke in the office. I didn't want to hurt his feelings. But wasn't I already hurting them by constantly refusing to place an order? Honesty won out. "Mr. Books, if I'm being completely candid--"

"Call me Dawson. We're officially 'off the record' here." He gave me a grandfatherly smile, "I'm not going to take offense to whatever you say. Obviously our merchandise is not to your liking. I just need to know why?"

"Call me Stephanie, Dawson." I pointed to several of the most dated items in his portfolio, "Women these days don't wear girdles anymore. They wear shape wear instead. Here--look at this catalog from one of your competitors." Technically I wasn't supposed to show him this, but I'd decided to lay my cards on the table. "This is the kind of lingerie we women wear: it's modern, it's sexy, it's the kind of lingerie a woman wants to feel against her skin and the kind a man wants to see her in. If you know what I mean."

"I completely understand, Stephanie. After all, I was married once," Dawson smiled, lost in reminiscence, "Years ago. Then I lost my lovely Maggie to cancer. The love of my life, that woman was. Never found anyone else who could compare to her." He noticed my ring, "It seems that you've found a young man yourself, Stephanie! That ring wasn't on your finger last month. Congratulations!"

I smiled, feeling a strange sense of relaxation. I guess it was called total honesty. "I met him this weekend, Dawson. His name is Carlos. He's a soldier, going off to war for the next year and a half. But we're going to be married when he gets back. He's IT for me, too. The only man I'll ever love. I'm sorry about your Maggie. For the first time, I guess I know what you feel like to be without her."

His kind blue eyes watered up, "Your young man is very brave, Stephanie. To fight for his country during this terrible time. I'll keep him--and you--in my thoughts and prayers. I wish you both a long and happy life together. I know I had that with my lovely Maggie."

"Thank you, Dawson." Impulsively, I picked up a pen and asked him, "May I?"

He nodded, pushing across the portfolio of designs he'd come to offer EE Martin. I found myself sketching easily, almost effortlessly, and I made several major adjustments to all of the items in his portfolio. "That's the kind of thing we're looking for. As a woman, I'd buy that lingerie in a heartbeat!"

Books examined the sketches silently, saying nothing. His knowledgeable eyes missed nothing, and I could see him processing every line I'd put on the page. After a long silence, he looked up, "You're very talented, Stephanie. Have you ever thought of designing your own line of lingerie?"

Actually, I had. It was on my top-secret list of things I wanted to do, along with being Wonder Woman, flying, having a purple rose named after myself, designing my own version of Barbie, owning the _It's A Small World_ ride and being able to ride it myself anytime I felt sad, and a few other decidedly more kinky things I'd already tried on Carlos this weekend. "Actually….."

"I thought so. I can see the confidence in your sketching. This isn't the first time you've drawn lingerie. That teddy here is brilliantly constructed! I look at it and I say to myself, 'why the hell didn't _I_ know to do that'! But then, I'm an old fossil and the world has pretty much passed me by--"

"That's not true." I felt miserable: we'd all said versions of that about poor Mr. Books and his granny panties.

"You're being kind, child. I know my time has come and gone. But these designs you have here are lovely! These designs could help my company keep up with the times, and dare I say it, even set a fashion trend or two! That little flirty slip is fantastic! I can see that in silk and perhaps in a floral? What do you think, Stephanie?"

"Definitely," I agreed, "But have the bottom be a different floral from the top. It will contrast better. And maybe a soft blue/white floral combo?"

"Perfect," Books agreed, jotting down notes. "And this design here, this is so simple, it's ingenious! Perfect for sleeping in, perhaps in soft pastel colors, and made of a soft cotton?"

"Yes, and with a variation, here and then over here," I drew a few lines deftly, and found myself smiling in excitement, "you can do _this_! And make it in a few different prints! What do you think?"

"I think it's magic!" Books was just as delighted as I was. We were grinning like two kids in a candy store now. He offered his hand and I blinked in confusion. "Well, Stephanie? Will you come on board as my new lingerie designer?"

I stood frozen, my mouth open wide. A job offer? Designing lingerie? On the basis of a few off the cuff sketches and no training at all? Was Books _insane_? "I'm not qualified to design lingerie! Or anything else, for that matter."

"Nonsense, woman! You've taken out-dated designs and turned them hip and modern and done it instinctively in just moments. That's a real in-born talent. You can't teach that kind of thing in design school. Point is, you know damned well what women want to wear and I don't. You know how to sketch to get your ideas across so they can be manufactured. As a buyer, you know there is a market for these designs. I don't want you keeping them in your head, I want them in manufacture at my plant. I need you. I'll pay you a hell of a lot more than EE Martin does, and I'll give you a contract so you get royalties from all of your designs. The more they sell, the more you get. You get enough exposure--pardon the pun--and you get your name out there in the industry, and before too long, you'll be the owner of your own label, Stephanie. You can have a career doing this, if you take a leap of faith and come with me. What do you say?"

I wasn't capable of saying _anything_ at the moment. Sensible Stephanie was at war with Wonder Woman. Sensible Stephanie pointed out that I had a well-paying, though boring, job at EE Martin and it for the most part was a good place to work. Wonder Woman was shouting that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to get into an industry I knew and get my designs--and damn, I had plenty in my head--out there and manufactured. I knew Dawson Books had an almost 40 year reputation in the industry as a straight-arrow honest man, although the company itself was falling behind the times rapidly because they lacked a designer who could keep up with the trends. _I_ could be that designer, Wonder Woman insisted. Sensible Stephanie kicked her in the shins and reminded me that I liked eating and paying rent and my steady reliable but boring job at EE Martin made that possible. Wonder Woman lassoed her finally and forced Sensible Stephanie to admit that she hated every minute of taking stupid orders from that bossy bitch Mrs. Lebowitz, and that this was an opportunity that she'd always dreamed of.

"I'll do it," I blurted, surprising myself and delighting Books. Hastily, I added, "I need to see the offer in writing, of course. And a contract--"

"Done, Stephanie. I'll have my attorney prepare the papers and you can have your attorney review them. All in order, all very business-like and professional. You can give EE Martin your notice when you've approved the documents and in the meantime--"

"You can use the sketches I've designed here," I decided, offering my hand. "I trust you, and however fast you can get the papers drawn up, that's how fast I can hand in my 2 weeks notice here. Then you have yourself a new designer…if everything is as you said."

He gave me a dollar figure that staggered me--I don't know what the hell he thought EE Martin was paying me, but he was dead wrong. Hell, maybe I've been working for peanuts for years and never knew it! But he gave me a brief accounting of the benefits included, and they were more generous than those my current employer was providing. Oh, _yes_, did I want to come and work for him!

"I'll have cards made up for you--"

"Cards?"

"Business cards. You'll have an expense account and a secretary. You'll have the office next to mine and I'm sure you'll be quite pleased with it. It's bigger than this room, and much better furnished."

"This isn't my office, this is the conference room," I pointed out, "I don't have an office here. I have a cubicle."

"Well, you'll have an office bigger than this at Books Designs. And who knows? If things go the way I predict, we may be changing the name of the company to Books and Plum Designs before long. I have a few ideas for new sleepwear, but I'd like a second set of eyes to work out the details. I'm very much looking forward to this, Stephanie. I feel like this is a whole new world for me to explore. I hope that doesn't sound ridiculous--"

It didn't. Not to me. I was every bit as excited and incredulous as Books was. I felt the Universe had sent me what I needed to fulfill my dreams of being Wonder Woman, and just as I had when I approached Carlos, I was taking active steps to make my dreams come true. To hell with being sensible and predictable and boring and routine. To hell with being _Burg_! I wanted to fly, and I wanted to take that leap of faith and go forward with confidence that I'd be successful. "It sounds wonderful! I can't wait!"

I gave Books my home number, and my cell number, and he gave me his. We agreed to meet again over dinner in 2 nights' time, at which point he would give me the papers and I'd have my attorney review them. Except….I didn't have an attorney. I didn't know an attorney. Wait. I did. Sort of, anyway! Carlos' longtime friend Mateo was an attorney! What was his last name? Herrera! _Mateo Herrera! _I'd check the phone directory, he'd be in there, no doubt. I'd ask him to represent me in this! Maybe I'd even suggest to Dawson that we have the business meeting at _Rosa's_! That would give me confidence, and it would be the good luck omen I needed to start this new phase of my life! Sensible Stephanie pointed out that Papa's mother had seen me doing a very unladylike thing in their parking lot, but Wonder Woman argued back that the odds were that she hadn't said anything and that she wouldn't even _be _there, anyway. Sensible Stephanie threw up her hands in disgust and just slunk away as Wonder Woman winked at me and gave me a high-five!

My meeting later in the afternoon with Marianne Preston went well, and I placed a large order with her. Both of us went away happy.

I was in high spirits when I left the office at 5pm, on my way to the grocery store for some essentials: frozen dinners, junk food, and sweets. Ben and Jerry were cooperating with me, in that they were on sale at two pints for $5. I came home with Chunky Monkey, Strawberry Cheesecake, Peanut Butter Cup, Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, Cherry Garcia and Chocolate Fudge Brownie. Hey, a girl has to take advantage of a sale, now doesn't she? I found myself humming happily as I motored into my parking lot. And wonder of wonders, the miracle occurred! The prime parking spot opened just as I was there to take advantage of it! Parking Karma! Damn, was I hot or what? I was _sizzlin'_!!!

I was on my third song by the time I got my door opened, and Rex, the attack hamster was on the job. I coo'd at him and picked up the phone to thank my super Dillon for hamster-sitting while I was gone. I had a 6 pack of his favorite beer ready for him, and he wasted no time in coming upstairs to take delivery.

My answering machine was blinking fast and furious, and I sighed, knowing damned well who it was. I looked at the time as I changed into my comfy pants and a cute top and stuck my feet into my fluffy slippers that looked like Teddy Bears. Hey, if you'd seen them, you'd have bought them too! Padding out to the kitchen, I grabbed a spoon, opened the freezer for my Chunky Monkey and, thus fortified, I pressed PLAY on my machine.

The dreaded voice of Ellen Plum exploded in the silence as I munched on my ice cream, relishing a spoonful of walnuts and fudge chunks in banana ice cream. Rex looked pretty happy, too: I'd dropped in a piece of carrot-cake muffin for him, as well as a grape and a piece of banana-nut muffin. My poor little guy didn't quite know what to grab for first, but he was a very happy hamster. I was such a good hamster Mommy!!

"Stephanie! This is your mother. Again. Why aren't you answering your cell phone? Did something happen? I told you I needed you home, your father and your grandmother are fighting and my nerves can't take it anymore."

BEEP.

"Stephanie! This is your mother. Call me immediately, young lady. This is an emergency! The least you can do is help your mother when she needs you."

BEEP.

"Stephanie! This is your mother. If you don't call me, I'm going to come over there and find out what's going on with you. You have me very worried. You aren't answering your phone; you could be dead and in a ditch for all I know. Call me. Now."

BEEP.

"Hey, Steph! It's Mary Lou! Are you back yet? How was the wedding? I want details! Call me!"

BEEP.

"Stephanie! This is your mother. Are you there? Stephanie? You should be home by now. You need to call me immediately or I'm going to have your father drive me over there. Frank? How long does someone have to be missing before you can file a missing persons report with the police? Frank---don't take that phone----"

BEEP.

"Pumpkin, it's your father. Will you please call your mother and let her know you weren't mugged in Newark over the weekend? She's driving me out of what's left of my mind. She and that crazy bat mother of hers---"

BEEP.

"Hello, Stephanie, this is Dawson Books. Just wanted to touch base with you to say that I have my attorney working on those papers and you'll have something in writing by Wednesday. Call me at your convenience and we can arrange some time and place to meet for dinner. I'm so looking forward to having you aboard!"

BEEP.

"Hey, Stevie, it's Tina. Hope you got the wine, I'm picking up the pizza and I'll be there at 7:30, OK?"

BEEP.

I finished my Chunky Monkey and tossed the pint away, washing the spoon in the sink. Naturally, I decided to call everyone but my mother first. Hey, call me chicken, but you haven't met Ellen Plum!!

"Hey, Tina! It's Stevie!"

"Hey, girl! We still on?"

"Absolutely. I was wondering--would you mind if I invite Mary Lou over with us? I'm going to spill about Carlos to both of you, and I'd rather have you with me when I hit her with the juicy details. After all, you've met him---"

"No problem, give her a call. The more the merrier. I'll pick up a second pizza; we can have a real girls' night gab session. Did you print out the yummy photos yet?"

I grinned, "No, that's next on my agenda, though. I have like a zillion messages from my mother. Would you believe she wants to put a Missing Persons Bulletin out on me?"

"Glad she's your mom, not mine. You better suck it up and call her or else we'll have the cops over for dinner. See you at 7:30, yes?"

"See you then."

I hung up and dialed Mary Lou. "It's me! I'm back!"

"How was the wedding? Did you have fun?"

"Oh God, do I have a lot to catch you up on! I met someone, Lou, a guy named Carlos Manoso. He's a Captain in the Army. I'm in love. Head over heels."

"You're kidding me."

"No, honestly. Not a joke, Lou. He's IT. The man of my dreams. I'm practically engaged. I've got the ring to prove it. And I've got pictures. I want to tell you all about it---are you free tonight? 7:30? Pizza and wine? Tina's coming over and I'm spilling some news to her and I wanted to tell you, too."

"I'll get free. I'll have Lenny watch the kids. OMIGOD, Steph, are you sure?"

"Positive, Lou. He's the one I've been waiting for. I met him Friday night, we spent most of the weekend together--except for when I was at the wedding--and we're in love. He's romantic. Sexy. Smart. Funny. Gorgeous. Wonderful. Wait till you see him!"

"I'd love to meet him! We'll have you two over for dinner, just name the day."

"Unfortunately, that's going to take awhile. He left for the Middle East this morning; he'll be gone for 18 months."

"Holy shit, Steph! _You're going to marry a guy you've known for 3 days? _And he's nowhere to be found for the next year and a half? This is soooooooooo not like you, Steph! Are you sure this isn't a joke?"

"I'm more serious than I've ever been in my life. And I have some other news, too."

"I'm afraid to ask what it is."

"I'm going to quit my job at EE Martin and become a lingerie designer."

"Now I _know_ you're joking."

"It's crazy, OK, I know that, Lou. It's a huge risk--"

"Do tell."

"I will---tonight for dinner. Even Tina doesn't know this part. It happened this afternoon, when I was meeting with one of our long-time clients. His designs were decades old, and instead of just saying 'no thanks' which I usually do, I sketched for him the kind of things we _would_ order….and he _loved_ them! And the thing is, I did it so instinctively that it just felt _right_! And he offered me the job on the spot and his lawyer is drawing up a contract and in 2 weeks plus a few days, I'll be officially a lingerie designer with an office and a secretary and an expense account and a future in an industry that I know and enjoy!"

"I'm sitting down now and I'm still trying to process this. It's too much for me. My brain is short-circuiting."

"You need food and drink. Pizza and wine. 7:30. You'll see Carlos' pictures, you can interrogate Tina, she met him. You can see the ring. And some other things……"

"I'll be there. OMIGOD. This is so surreal! Is this Stephanie Plum I'm talking to, or is this a really interesting wrong number?"

"It's the new and improved Stephanie Plum, Lou. And I'm ready to fly! See you at 7:30."

I hung up, still smiling. I called Dawson Books next.

"Dawson? It's Stephanie, returning your call."

"Stephanie, my dear, how good to hear from you. I contacted my attorney and told him what I wanted, and he's getting the contracts together. I should have them in hand Wednesday and I was hoping we could have a business meeting that evening to discuss the new arrangements? Would that work for you?"

"I need to get an attorney, but assuming I can get the guy I want, I should be able to move on things pretty quickly after you give me the contract. Can I get back to you on that business meeting? I'm assuming you want both attorneys present at the dinner?"

"Yes, if possible. That would be the most comfortable way to have the discussion. My firm of course will pick up the bill for your attorney's expenses."

_Whoa, baby! _Did my tight little budget do a happy dance with _that_ one! "I understand. I'm going to make the call now, and assuming I can reach him before he leaves for the day---" I checked my watch. "I'll get back to you on the date and time. I suggest _Rosa's _on Broad Street for the place, if that's alright with you?"

"I've been there before. Excellent food. I totally agree. Let me know the date and time and I'll make the reservations for four."

After the necessary pleasantries, we hung up and I reached for the phone book. _Attorneys. _It didn't take long to find the man I was looking for: _Mateo Herrera, Attorney At Law_. _Specialty: Contract law_. Yep. Perfect! I held my breath and dialed the number. A secretary picked up and I asked if Mateo was available. I used Carlos' name, and was immediately patched through to Mateo himself.

"Mateo Herrera, how can I help you?" His voice was calm and confident, and I felt certain I was making the right choice for an attorney.

"Mateo, this is Stephanie Plum. We met at _Rosa's_ on Sunday night, remember? I was with your friend Carlos Manoso."

"I remember perfectly, Stephanie! Is everything alright? I---Is Carlos OK?"

"He's fine," I assured him quickly, "I saw him off this morning at the airport. He should be in North Carolina by now, with his company. Or battalion. Whatever they call it in the Army. I'm not calling about Carlos. I'm calling about me. I need an attorney, and I don't know one, and I was hoping I could hire you."

"Are you in any trouble? What's this about?"

"I'm planning a new business venture, and I'm going to need an attorney to review the contracts involved. I work for EE Martin as a lingerie buyer now. But one of the manufacturers I work with, Dawson Books, has offered me a job with his firm as a lingerie designer. He's having his attorney prepare some papers, and I was wondering if---"

"If I would look them over and represent your best interests," he continued smoothly. "I'd be happy to, Stephanie. Dawson Books. I've heard the name before. He's got a very good reputation in the community. I know his attorney, Peter Swifford. I'd be happy to represent you."

"It's short notice, but Dawson asked if I could meet with him Wednesday evening over dinner with our attorneys and discuss the contracts. I suggested _Rosa's_."

There was a silence.

"Mateo? Are you there?"

"Yes, yes, I'm here. _Rosa's_ will be fine. Wednesday evening. What time?"

"Say 7pm? Dawson will make the reservation."

"I'll see you there, Stephanie. I'm looking forward to it."

"So am I. Thank you very much, Mateo!"

"You're welcome, Stephanie. Anytime. Let me give you my cell phone number."

I copied it down, then when the call ended, I added it to my phone. I called Dawson back and confirmed the date and time, then looked sadly at my phone. It was time. No more excuses. I dialed the phone to call She Who Must Be Obeyed. Or who _thinks _she must, anyway.

"Stephanie! Thank God you're alright! You weren't answering your cell phone, so I tried calling you at home and I still got no answer. I was beside myself with worry!"

"I'm fine, Mom. The wedding was a lot of fun, and the girls and I had a great time. You shouldn't have worried."

"I'm your mother. It's my job to worry about you. We're having pot roast for dinner tonight. Your father and your grandmother have been sniping at each other all weekend, and I need you to---"

"Can't make dinner tonight, Mom. Sorry. I have two friends coming over for dinner here."

"They're more than welcome to come with you. We have plenty of food for company."

"No, Mom, not tonight. I'll come tomorrow night, how about that?"

"We're having pineapple upside down cake tonight…."

"Save me a piece, OK? I really really can't make dinner tonight. But I'll come early tomorrow night and have a chat with both Daddy and Grandma."

"Oh, well…if that's the best you can do…" The irritation was unmistakable.

"Sorry." I rolled my eyes, "I've got plans made and I just can't change them."

We ended the call that way, and my mother made very clear that she wasn't happy. But I knew she was about to _really_ be unhappy tomorrow night when my 'promise' ring and I made an appearance at her dinner table!

I exhaled, noticing that Rex had finished his bounty and was now peering inquisitively out of his hamster haven. It was time Rex and I had a chat, I decided. He was a good listener…..

"So, Rex, what do _you _think about all of this?" I saw him wiggle his nose. "I'm glad you're liking your new place, it has all the bells and whistles. I knew you'd love it the moment I saw it."

Rex twitched his whiskers, which I took as agreement. I'd bought the new home for him just the day before I left for the hotel, wanting to give Rex the most up-to-date top of the line habitat to ensure that he didn't miss me too much while I was gone. What can I say? I love my little guy! He deserves the best!

Picking up the colorful brochure I hadn't yet read, I continued, "According to this, Critter Trail X is the extreme activity home for small animal pets. It features the Xtreme Wheel, an exercise wheel that mounts on top of the home and spins both forward and backward while also rotating around the base -- and it glows in the dark! There's also the Xtreme Slide, a spiral climbing slide inside the home, plus the 'petting zone' a special area on top of the home that offers easy access to your pet, and also removes from the home to give you a safe place to keep your pet while cleaning the cage. Includes water bottle and food dish, and a Fun-nels climbing tube."

"I take it the climbing tube is to your liking?" I put the brochure down and leaned close to the cage. It really was quite impressive, I had to admit!

Rex wiggled his nose and twitched his whiskers in reply. Wow! That was high praise indeed from my little guy!

"Glows in the dark, huh? Bet you like that part, huh?" I smiled happily.

Unfortunately, Rex tired of the discussion about then, and he ambled off, having spotted a bit of walnut that hadn't caught his attention before. I guessed that Rex was too hungry to hear my big news about Carlos and Dawson, so I dropped another couple of pieces of muffin in the cage and really proved my devotion as a hamster Mommy! Rex was back in a nanosecond, and I continued to pour out my heart to the little guy while he made his way through the carrot-cake muffin I'd saved from breakfast this morning.

"So, that's about it," I finally concluded, "I'm thinking I need to start taking Life by the horns, so to speak, and making some big changes. I'd like to know you're on board with the whole thing."

That earned me a whisker twitch or two, before Rex disappeared onto the climbing slide for some Xtreme sliding action.

"Thanks, Rex, I knew I could count on you!" And I could.

I remembered the digital pictures then, and almost fell over my feet scurrying to the computer to upload the pics and print out my favorites. I had picked up a number of frames at the drug store next to the grocery store, and I was determined to have the photos ready for display by the time Tina and Mary Lou arrived for dinner.

OMIGOD! I was struck again by how exceptionally handsome Carlos was, and I think for a few moments I just stared awestruck at the screen before I finally managed to pull myself together and press PRINT. _This is my man_, I reminded myself. All _mine_. For the rest of our lives! I looked at the ring and a goofy grin formed on my face as I remembered when he gave it to me in the hotel. I pulled out the boxes with the earrings and the pendent, and just stroked them as I sat lost in my reverie.

I picked up the opal tennis bracelet and slipped it on my wrist, marveling at how magnificently the stones glittered in the light. I'd seen opals before--they were, after all, my birthstone--but never had I seen any to match the splendor of these stones. What exquisite taste Carlos had!

While I waited for the pictures to print out, I did a quick search on Google to see what symbolic meaning opals had. I was going to be wearing the ring daily until Carlos replaced it with a wedding band, so I figured I ought to know what meanings the opal had. I found one site and learned that the opal was symbolic of faithfulness and confidence, and that it was thought to have protective powers to ward off evil! The stones, legend held, "fell from Heaven in a flash of fiery lightning". I could believe that: they shimmered beautifully as I turned my hand and enjoyed the "explosion of shimmering colors" that the opals provided.

The printer spit out print after print of Carlos alone and of Carlos and me together. I sat lost in reverie, remembering the exact moments each of the photos were taken. It was only yesterday, but somehow it seemed like a lifetime ago! I tucked away wallet-sized prints in my bag, and placed the 8 by 10 inch framed photos of Carlos himself and of us together all around the apartment, including my bedroom.

Then I sat back and it all began to hit me. I wasn't going to see him for 18 long months. April 6th, 2010! That was practically _forever_!! The roller-coaster of emotions finally proved too much for me, and I broke down into the cry of my life. I didn't feel much like Wonder Woman anymore…..


	50. Chapter 50

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 50

It really says something about the roller-coaster of emotions I was on that, an hour or so after I'd completely dissolved into tears, I was back again on the top of the world. Why? I was recounting for my two best friends the saga of when and how I'd met my beloved Carlos! As we enjoyed our Pino's pizzas and the first bottle of red wine, I was smiling ear to ear.

"So anyway, there I am, Lou, standing right in front of the most gorgeous hunk of man ever to walk the face of the Earth, and by now of course my face is as red as this tomato sauce," I pushed a wayward piece of meatball onto the slice of pizza I was about to push into my mouth, "because I couldn't _believe _I'd actually been dumb enough to say that _out loud_! But I _had_! Damned chocolate martinis! They're _lethal_, I tell you! Lethal! And I'd had 3. Or was it 4?? I lost count, damn it all to hell!"

"You actually said '_what a hunk, why wasn't he stripping for me_?'" Mary Lou hooted, almost spilling the glass of red wine she held. "Oh my God, Steph, that has to take the cake as the single most embarrassing moment you've ever had! And you've had quite a few, as we all know. Poor girl!"

"Actually, it _wasn't_ the worst part," I mumbled, chewing the pizza fast so I could get out the rest of my '_how did you meet Carlos?_' story to my more-than-interested friend. "I tried playing it cool and pretending I _didn't_ say it, but that didn't work at all. He'd heard it and he wasn't going to let me fluff it off. Arrogant bastard. And so he gives me this smug look--I almost came right on the spot it was so damned blazing hot and sexy--and he says, 'Is that _really_ the story you're going to go with, Babe? Or do you want to try it more _honestly _this time?'"

"He calls her _Babe_," Tina interjected, "He says it sooooo hot, too!! _BABE_." Tina tried her damnedest to sound just like Carlos, and failed miserably. No one sounded like Carlos _but _Carlos!

"Omigod! And then _you _said what?" Mary Lou's eyes were wide with excitement, "This gets better and better!" She looked over at a nodding Tina, who was grinning widely, having already heard the full story of that initial meeting before Mary Lou had arrived.

"My poor brain temporarily short-circuited from the hot strip-me-naked look he was giving me. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it! And so I said--I kid you not--'_I'm just looking for some hot sex!_'" I felt myself blushing again as I recounted my mortifying reply, and shook my head as both Mary Lou and Tina dissolved into hysterical laughter. "Go ahead, hoot all you want!! It landed me the hunk! Did it _ever_!"

"Steph, honey, you did damned good for yourself with _this _guy! He's absolutely _gorgeous_," Mary Lou admitted, examining my favorite shot of Carlos. It had been taken at Peddler's Village, when I'd stopped a stranger and asked her to take a photo of the two of us wrapped in each other's arms in front of a gazebo. "I can see why you'd take one look at him and think about nothing but sexing him up, girlfriend!! If I weren't happily married to Lenny, I'd have tried the same thing! But it wouldn't have worked for _me_. _You're_ the hot fox, you lucky bitch!"

"Tell her about what you said in the sundry shop, when the two of you stopped for condoms!" Tina demanded. "Wait till you hear this, Mary Lou! You'll pee your pants! I swear to God, it's _hysterical_!"

I almost choked on my wine, and rolled my eyes long-sufferingly, "Why did I even tell you _this _part, Tina? You'll never let me live it down!"

"I want to hear it! Out with the story!" Mary Lou demanded, clearly relishing my mock distress. "And don't skip a single detail! I want it _all_, girl, you hear me?"

"OK, hold your horses, Lou! We go into the shop in the lobby, and he says he needs to get something for tonight--meaning _condoms_, of course. _DUH! _And he heads towards the counter. So scatter-brained me sees candy bars and I figure _that's_ what he wants--"

"You _didn't_! Oh no! _Steph_!" She dissolved into laughter, wiping tears from her eyes.

"She _did_, Mary Lou! She tells him 'good idea, I could use a few'! Do you _believe_ it?"

"Actually, now that I think about it, knowing Steph and her notorious sweet-tooth, I _do_!"

Both friends again dissolved in hysterical giggles as I tried unsuccessfully to pout in mock annoyance.

"So he says 'actually I was going to get _condoms_, Babe, but if you want candy, get whatever you want'--and he gives me a kiss! Curled my toes, just the feel of his mouth on mine! He says 'we definitely need to keep your strength up for the _marathon sex _we're going to have tonight'---"

"OMIGOD! I think I just came! Marathon sex! OMIGOD!" Mary Lou moaned, still examining my variety of Carlos photos. "This man is _seriously _hot, baby girl! Whoa, Lordy Mama, is he hunk-o-licious!!"

"You haven't even seen him in person, either," Tina reminded her, "If you had, you'd _definitely_ come--in one point one nanosecond! He has the hottest most muscular body I've ever seen. _To die for! _Not an ounce of fat on him! Rock hard body. His ass is so firm you could bounce quarters off it. And that's with his clothes _on_!"

"His skin is the color of a mocha latte," I rhapsodized, "And oh dear God can he ever kiss!! To say nothing about what _else_ he can do!"

"Now tell her the best part about the condoms!" Tina interrupted. "Get this, Mary Lou: he tells her he usually takes _XXXL_ condoms, but they only have XXL, so he has to make do with them. Cramped though they were. Magnum XXXL! Can you imagine?"

"OMIGOD! OMIGOD!" My poor unfortunate Burg buddy was hyperventilating where she sat.

Tina was going in for the kill now, "And he buys a box of _12_---and here's the kicker: they used them _ALL_ the first night!"

"OMIGOD! OMIGOD! OMIGOD!" Mary Lou's big blue eyes had almost bugged out of her head now. She looked to me for confirmation.

I grinned happily and nodded, sporting a cat-ate-the canary smile as I licked some mozzarella cheese and sauce off my fingers.

"_OMIGOD_!" Mary Lou finished off her wine in one gulp and poured herself another glass, "No wonder you want to marry the guy! He's _definitely_ a keeper! XXXL! OMIGOD!"

"Yep! And Thunder the Magnificently-hung Hunky Wonder Horse don't settle for just _missionary_, either!" Tina teased wickedly. "Our naughty little girl here done went and got herself into some _very _kinky business that first night--didn't you, Stevie? And don't deny it, because I read the notes you wrote when I walked into your room the next morning! And I recognize your handwriting! Get this, Mary Lou: she tied him to the bed and drizzled desserts all over his naked body! And then she licked them off him, inch by hot sizzling inch!"

Mary Lou's breathing slowed and her open mouth dropped open in stunned silence. A strangled _EEP_ came from deep down her throat, and I honestly thought she was going to pass out on us for a few minutes!

"We _did_ get very creative," I grinned devilishly. "Carlos devised this ingenious little game called _Anything Goes---_"

"And it _DID_. That's for sure!"

"Tina, are _you_ going to tell the story, or am _I_?"

"I'm living vicariously through you," she defended herself, "I have all weekend! Come on, Stevie, let me have some of the fun here. Lord knows all _I_ got out of the weekend was a pathetic stripper and a lousy $19.99 porno movie!"

"OMIGOD! OMIGOD!" Mary Lou was still processing the bondage and dessert story--and it was definitely sending her over the edge of sanity, good little Catholic Burg girl that she was.

"Lou, if you don't stop saying that, I'm not going to finish telling the story. I'm going to think you can't handle the truth…." I paused, watching Mary Lou's expressive face as I finally continued my tale to an envious audience. "He told me his buddies call him 'Superman'--and I can personally attest to the fact that he lives up to _that _nickname. Minus the faster-than-a-speeding-bullet part, thank God! The guy has some seriously slow hands, and some truly _amazing _stamina! We did it all night long, over and over and over and over. And just like the coffee commercial, I'm here to testify, he was definitely good to the last drop!"

"That's it! I _definitely _ruined my panties with that picture," Mary Lou announced. "And the minute I get home, I'm going to ravish poor Lenny within an inch of his life. I'm seriously horny! I need to get laid!"

"Poor Lenny will be _Lucky _Lenny tonight!" came Tina's sassy reply, and we all laughed uproariously.

By this time, Tina was pouring another round of wine for all. Having decided to spill my guts on the game of _Anything Goes_, I was definitely in need of another glass to loosen my tongue.

"Let's just say that we each had a great time composing 6 of our _hottest_ fantasies--in _explicit_ detail, mind you--and then we tucked one of the condoms in each of the wrapped papers and tossed them into an empty ice bucket. And we took turns drawing them out and getting really really down and dirty!"

"Good thing your harpy of a mother wasn't anywhere nearby, or you'd be locked away in a nunnery by now--for life!" Mary Lou--knowing Ellen Plum all too well--opined.

"You ain't just shittin me!" I hoisted my glass for another toast. "Here's to sizzlin hunks who have the whole package---"

"--and know how to stuff it where it feels the best!" Tina finished, as we all broke up laughing like loons.

Thus fortified by wine and encouraged by two fun-loving friends, I found myself relating the rules of _Anything Goes_:live your wildest dreams, no holds barred, dress in costumes, if requested_. _Both women were dumb-founded that my inner nymphomaniac had agreed to participate in sharing my deep dark fantasies with a complete stranger--albeit a gorgeous one. And that I'd set about making them come true all night long!

Not that they were surprised I _had_ an inner nymphomaniac, mind you. After all, we'd been watching a stripper--albeit a completely nauseating one whom you'd rather pay to put his clothes _on_ than take them _off_--the night of the bachelorette party. And we'd been to Chippendales, in the City before. We were definitely _not _shy little virgins. But I knew, looking at my two buddies' faces, that I had now reached a mythic, almost-legendary status with this particular weekend and this particular game. I was now Samantha and Carrie from _Sex and the City _all rolled up into one: they now worshipped at my Manolo Blahnik-less feet. I preened.

"_So_??" Tina challenged me.

"So _what_?" I blinked, having clearly missed something vitally important while reaching behind to metaphorically pat myself on the back a few times.

"How big is XXXL?" Mary Lou repeated. "_Exactly_? And what were the 12 fantasies?"

I ruined my whole Samantha-Carrie vibe instantly by declining to reveal the _exact_ details.

"No fair, girlfriend! You got us all hot and bothered, now you're giving us the female equivalent to blue balls," Tina protested.

"You gotta spill, Steph," Mary Lou opined, "It's only fair."

"Damn! Then I need more wine for this," I muttered--then found myself with a topped-off glass in less than a second. Did I mention that these women _really_ wanted the scoop?

"Give it up--_all of it_," came the threat, "Or else little Rex gets hurt! No more hamster-sitting when you want out of town!"

"You _wouldn't_," I wailed unhappily. Mary Lou was Rex' surrogate mommy! My little guy would go through horrific mental health problems if he wasn't allowed to spend the night at Chez Stankovic anymore!

"She _would_," Tina insisted, "She's got that mean look in her eye, Stevie. Poor Rex' fate is resting entirely in your hands. Do they have hamster psych wards? I wonder how you go about ordering straight jackets for hamsters? Internet research, anyone?"

"All right, you nosy bitches win," I exhaled, knocking back another mouthful of my libation, "I'm going to spill." And I did--in varying degrees of detail:

I started with my first fantasy, Intergalactic Princess Stephanie and her sex slave. I recounted how I'd used Carlos' belt on his gorgeously hot ass, and how phenomenal the sex had been. They knew all too well how long I'd avoided men since my nightmare of a marriage to Dickie Orr, so the fact I was hungry as a tigress surprised neither of them. I held out my hands, demonstrating how long said XXXL cock had been. Then swore on my little Rex' life that I wasn't exaggerating! (These cut-throat women were playing for keeps!)

After that, I told them the erotic saga of Dark Lord Carlos the Insatiable and Intergalactic Princess Stephanie, his prisoner of war. How Carlos had allowed me to ruin his fantasy so that I could continue to be unbound as Wonder Woman. How he'd understood my reluctance to have my hands tied, and told me he was proud of me for staying true to myself. What he'd said about never wanting to clip my wings, always wanting to see me fly. How the sex had started to mean more to both of us, although it was still agreed it was just a one-night stand at this point.

Next, I recounted my fantasy encounter with The Wizard of Ahhhs, and how I'd gone over the rainbow as Carlos had taken his time and used his incomparable skill to pleasure me in ways that no one ever had before. How he'd proved himself the All Mighty and All Powerful Wonderful Wizard of Ahhhs, and totally rocked my world in the process! Tina chimed in to verify that they'd heard my screams clear across the hall; poor Mary Lou almost short-circuited at the thought. Her brain completely fried out when I told her what 'hacer la sopa' meant. We'd never think of making soup the same way again….

Lost in my memories now, I described how we'd taken what Carlos had described as a 'road trip' for almost-public sex! I told her how hot sex in the alcove next to the ice machine had led to his spontaneous declaration--in Spanish, yet--of love for me. And his insistence that it was still only a one-night stand; that it was all it could ever be. Tina added her eye-witness testimony on how I'd glowed as we'd headed back to my room--and how Ruby had stripped poor Carlos with her beady sex-starved eyes as my gang of girlfriends had discovered us after hearing my screams of ecstasy once again!

Then had followed my saga of Carlos-as-tied-down-buffet table fantasy, one of my absolute favorites. The girls grinned as I recounted how I'd "tortured" him into revealing his full name, and the fact he had an older brother and four sisters. I didn't go into detail about what he'd told me about his difficulties with his father or mention anything about his youthful gang involvement or his story on the loss of his virginity; but I did mention that he'd understood all too well my problem having a parent who worshipped Valerie, to my own detriment. I saw them processing that, no doubt seeing how we'd bonded on it and guessing a reason why he'd be able to feel for me so perfectly.

Next came my recounting of my bizarre dream, where Carlos had been a hungry shark and I'd whoo-jah'd my way to freedom, almost knocking him out for the count. The girls broke up laughing as I revealed how I'd landed on my ass on the floor, unaware he'd only been attempting an erotic twist on Sleeping Beauty's kiss, paying dearly for his thoughtful efforts.

Then had come Raoul and the shower. I had them on the floor laughing as they imagined Carlos' face when I rhapsodized about my non-existent Spanish lover's 15 inch instrument that had ruined me for all other men. I sobered them up when I told them why he'd been insisting all night that we had no future--the 90% fatality rate his mission had (although I did not reveal he was Delta Force)--and suddenly we were all not only teary eyed, we were _scared_. Because all three of us knew that if something happened to Carlos and he didn't make it back in 18 months, it would _destroy_ me!

"You got him to change his mind, though," Mary Lou pointed out, "How did you manage to do that?"

"He loves her," Tina said softly. "He couldn't bear to live without her in his life! Right, Stevie?"

"Right. I told him I'd wait for him, no matter what. That he was Superman, and he'd _have _to survive--or I wouldn't." I grabbed a tissue and blotted the tears from my eyes as we all took a few moments to examine what a miracle my engagement to Carlos really was. The man knew he was facing death. And he'd promised me he'd defeat it and return for me. I knew--I just _knew_--he would. No question about it: Carlos kept his promises. And he'd keep this one. _Whatever it took!_

"So _then_ what? I swear to God, Steph, I wouldn't believe this if it were in a movie! But you're _living_ it!" Mary Lou was awe-struck.

"Well, we talked. A lot. Obviously. I warned him about my mother and Valerie and Grandma."

"And he asked for your hand in marriage regardless?" Tina joked, "Brave man. Tell him to wear body armor when he meets your grandmother for the first time!"

"Not just for the _first_ time," Mary Lou grinned, "That's primo real estate Mr. Manoso is packing there: your granny is gonna want to plow a few acres of it."

"I told him she was a registered sex offender. He thought I was kidding at first, but nope--now he understands the true terror that is Edna Mazur!"

"Now _there's_ a brave man!" Tina smiled, and we helped ourselves to yet another round of pizza….and another glass of wine. We were all kind of loopy by now!

"Anyway, then came his fantasy: naughty schoolgirl Steph and Headmaster Carlos. With me in costume, at Carlos' insistence." I recounted how it had led to hot sex as Carlos took me from behind; and how it had brought up the memory of the times that Dick The Prick had tried to anally rape me. How furious Carlos was, and how emotionally we'd connected when I told him the story.

"Dickie's damned good and lucky your man had to ship out Monday." Mary Lou opined, and we all grinned at how easily Carlos could have made Dick The Prick's life a living hell. "Guess Dickie won't be messing with you anytime in the future."

"Fuckin A!" Tina muttered. "Too bad, though: Dickie deserves to be in a world of pain after the way he treated you, Stevie!"

"Damned straight," I agreed, launching into an account of Carlos' fury against my mother, and how he had wanted to lay down the law to her about disrespecting me in future. "Good thing for her she wasn't invited to the wedding Saturday, or else Dickie wouldn't be the only one in a world of hurt. He made very clear he wasn't happy with how she belittles me in favor of Valerie." And then I explained to them that I'd decided to turn over a new leaf and become Wonder Woman for real---_woe to Ellen Plum_! "I'm not going to take her shit anymore. I'm _not_!"

"Good for you!" Tina congratulated, "Finally! I've told you that more times than I can count---so has Mary Lou. How you can suck it up and worry about what horse-pucky she's shoveling, I just don't get."

"That's because you weren't raised in the Burg," Mary Lou interrupted, "It's a whole different thing than you're used to, I keep telling you that."

"Well, it stops _now_!" I vowed, "I'm trusting you both to call me on it if you think you see me backsliding on my promise! Carlos wants me to take these 18 months he's gone to create my own life exactly the way _I _want to live it, Burg and my mother be damned! And that's what I'm _going_ to do!"

"Here, here," clapped Tina. "I'm going to kick your Intergalactic Princess ass if I catch you backsliding on your promise, too!"

"I'm on board!" Mary Lou decided, "Hell, I want to get the ring-side seat on how you handle your mother. I can always use it against my mother-in-law when I need to!"

"Well, I'm going to be a good teacher," I insisted, "Because no way am I going to disappoint Carlos. I want him to be as proud of me in 18 months as I'm going to be of him!"

"And he _will_ be!" Tina reassured me, "Speaking of Carlos….by my count, we're up to fantasy 8, Stevie. What was next?"

"Caveman Carlos and Tribal Princess Babe," I wiggled my eyebrows as I teased them, "Carlos of the _Big Club _Clan, that is! I told him I wanted him to 'fuck me caveman style' and oh man oh man did he ever! There's something to be said about animal print lingerie, ladies. Especially when your man rips it right off your body!"

"And there was a _lot _of ripping of lingerie this weekend," Tina reminded me, "I had to supply her with panties to wear for the wedding: she had none left!"

Mary Lou had not a damned thing to say about it: the poor woman was speechless by then! Her goofy smile said it all: Lenny was going to be seeing some animal print lingerie in the near future, no doubt about it!

Well, next came the tale of our road trip to Carlos' room, having truly decimated my own room so that it was totally uninhabitable. I recounted our quickie public elevator sex, followed by that truly mortifying encounter in the hallway between Mr. Higgenbottom and Carla Clark of Cleveland, the well-known professional bowler. And then I fast forwarded to the story of what had become of Fred and the tippling Bertha Higgenbottom at Stella and Patrick's wedding reception Saturday--thanks to Tina and my other friends.

"Then 10 was Carlos' fantasy of me as a porno-star and him as director. I had a teeny tiny scrap of a teddie on and my black over-the-knee boots---"

"Oh, didn't I tell you those boots were worth every penny you paid for them?!" Mary Lou reminded me enthusiastically. She had, indeed!

"They sure were," I agreed, "And _then_ some! Carlos loved loved loved them! Then I let him take a camera phone shot of me wearing his shirt and those boots. And I got this shot of him shirtless in return." I displayed my man looking utterly spectacular, and those rock hard abs were clearly in evidence. "Then the next two fantasies were mine: we played doctor, and Dr. Manoso took _really_ good care of the ache between my legs."

"I'll just bet he did," sighed Mary Lou, dreamily.

"She was walking so funny Saturday, you had to see her trying not to let Stella get a look at her!"

"Thank God for Heather and Nikki--"

"Who are Heather and Nikki?" Mary Lou was clueless. "Did I meet them?"

"No. They're Stella's hair and makeup ladies. Stevie was covered in hickies and her hair was a truly scary mythical beast. They worked miracles on her, otherwise she would have embarrassed herself in the wedding photos!"

"Honestly, Lou, we got like 2 hours of sleep that night. The last fantasy was mine, and I had him speak only in Spanish, and OMIGOD, I practically came from just listening to him."

"Time to 'hacer la sopa'!" Tina bellowed, and we all cracked up. _OK, so the wine was kicking in by this point!_

"There was plenty of that going on, for sure! Carlos loves to kiss….." I beamed happily, "And Carlos kisses _everything_. A _lot_."

"I told you: I'm living vicariously through you, Stevie! My life sucks royally in the romance department. I think it's been almost 2 years since anyone's offered to hacer my poor little neglected sopa……"

"Lenny isn't much for doing that, either," sighed Mary Lou. "Not that he minds getting _his_ sopa hacered, if you catch my meaning."

We did. _Men!!_

"Steph and Carlos are hooking me up with one of his hot Army buddies," Tina beamed, "Haven't seen his picture yet, but his name is Lester. And I'm hoping _he _hacers la sopa, too……he _is _Cuban, isn't he?"

"He is," I agreed, smiling, "I'll tell Carlos to make _sure_ Lester hacers your sopa frequently, girl. It's the least I can do for you being there for me through all this!"

"_I'm_ here for you for all this," complained Mary Lou. "What about _my_ sopa?"

"You're the one who married Lenny Stankovic," I reminded her. "He wasn't much for romance since the first date you two had, remember?"

"Who takes a girl to a Jackie Chan double feature on their first date?" Tina snorted.

"Yeah." Mary Lou sighed deeply, pouring herself another glass of wine, "My guy is a dud in the romance department. Especially these days."

"Excuse me?" I blurted. This was the first time I'd heard any complaints of this sort!

"Are you telling us what I _think_ you're telling us?" Tina pressed her, incredulous.

"No! Omigod, _no_! No, thank God! He can still get it up just fine. When he _tries_, that is," Mary Lou said, hastily. "It's just that with the kids at that age now, he's tired all the time---or else _I'm_ tired. And I can't remember the last time we went out to a romantic dinner. Or dancing. Or shared a walk on the beach….without the kids screaming and fighting and all kinds of aggravation, that is. That's what I mean."

"You should ship them off to your mother-in-law's for a weekend, and go to Lahaska, Pennsylvania."

"What's in Lahaska, Pennsylvania? A spa? Lenny'd never go for that type of thing."

"No, Peddler's Village! Carlos took me there on Sunday. It's _fabulous_! Shopping, walking around seeing the sights, eating….and they have a few different Country Inns! It'll be _very_ romantic, Lou. Nibbling strawberries in a four-poster feather bed, with a fire roaring. Great animal print lingerie--only temporarily on. Champagne. No kids anywhere in hollering distance. The night all to yourselves. Make a reservation and surprise Lenny. It will do wonders for your sex life."

"Never heard of it. Peddler's Village, huh?" Mary Lou sounded thoughtful.

"They drove there in his rental Porsche," Tina interrupted.

"He drives a _Porsche_?" Mary Lou exclaimed, "OMIGOD! Tell me, tell me! I have an orgasm every time I listen to one of them."

"I have an orgasm every time I _see_ one of them."

"I had a few orgasms _IN_ one of them. That _particular_ rental Porsche. With Carlos. Sunday night. In a restaurant parking lot. _Rosa's_, at Broad Street, across from the Courthouse, to be exact."

My buddies looked at me enviously. I'd trumped them, _again_! Naturally, I then had to recount the day we'd spent at Peddler's Village in detail, and then our heading back to the hotel for candlelight, champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries. And tons of sexy lingerie, gifted by my man. Then ripped off my all-too-willing body. Again.

Then I displayed the magnificently elegant opal jewelry he'd given me. The ring shimmered on my left hand as I spilled about our fabulous romantic dinner and dancing at _Rosa's_ that night. And almost being caught having sex in the parking lot by a little Cuban grandmother who'd known Carlos since he was a baby!

"We should go there for dinner sometime," I decided, "I'll introduce you to Papa, the owner, and his son Alejandro, the chef. You'll love the food, it's _to-die-for_."

"Maybe we can meet Rosa, and you can see if she recognizes you in the light," Tina suggested with a wicked smile.

"I think we can figure if she lets me back in the restaurant, she missed seeing my face," I giggled. "Carlos was beyond mortified."

By this time we'd overdosed on pizza, and the second bottle of wine was now empty. I knew my friends were watching me carefully to see how I was holding up as the night progressed--and I was doing surprisingly well by this point. I _needed_ to talk about Carlos, and they were more than willing listeners to all of the details I wanted to offer about the weekend! I finished up my story telling them of his romantic proposal and his plea that I plan the wedding of my dreams so that we could be married when he returned.

"He comes back April 6th, 2010, and we're meeting in our room 407 for a week of non-stop love-making. He already made the reservations," I smiled, "And we aren't leaving anything to chance. _An Affair To Remember _taught me a lesson: always have a back-up plan! Well, we _do_." I recounted it, and we all agreed it was fool-proof.

"So, when is the wedding set for?" Mary Lou asked, "End of April?"

"No. See, he gets back April 6th, and then he has 3 months off, basically doing a desk job. Then he has _another_ 6 months to go in order to complete his service in the Army. And he isn't going to re-sign after that. He's all mine then!"

"Wait a minute! 6 months _more_? He's not shipping back overseas _again_??" Tina's voice was horrified.

"No, thank God! I couldn't take _that_! He told me the 3 months he gets is a desk assignment, which he usually hates, but they insist on it so he can de-program or de-stress or whatever the hell they call it, after his 18 months overseas. Then the next 6 months will be in North Carolina, teaching a class of recruits. Then he's out of the Army for good in early January 2011. And he's starting up a security business in Trenton with a few of his Army buddies--including Tina's Lester."

"My Lester," Tina rhapsodized, "Hear that? _My _Lester!"

"You haven't even _met _this guy yet," Mary Lou reminded her, "How do you even know you'll _want_ him to be yours?"

"Carlos promised me a hot guy," Tina maintained, "And Steph says he keeps his promises."

"He does. _Always. _Lester will be hot, Tina, count on it!"

"So the wedding is January, 2011?" Mary Lou worried, "Isn't that a long time to wait?"

"I'm not waiting until then!" I said, determined. "I've always wanted to be a June bride. I'm figuring, Carlos gets back April 6th, I monopolize him sexually in April, then I let him connect with his family and friends in May, and then we have the wedding in early June. We have a three week honeymoon, look at houses, then he goes back to North Carolina July 6th for his last 6 months teaching assignment. And I use the time to get the house fixed up for him to move back---in between flying off to NC to see my new husband, that is! My new husband! I love the sound of that! Mrs. Stephanie Manoso……"

"He's OK with all of it?" Tina was cleaning up the pizza boxes by now, and I stood to join her.

"He's fine with it. He told me I can have a big wedding or a small wedding, whatever I want. Except he says he has a really big family and lots of friends. And so do I. So I'm figuring we go _big_! What's that saying? _Go big or go home_! We're going big!"

"Your mother should _love_ that," Mary Lou groaned, "She'll be freaking when she discovers you're planning a huge wedding with a guy she's never even heard of before, let alone ever met. To say nothing of a guy who's Cuban and not Burg material at all."

"Tough tomatoes," I grinned. "What? Don't look at me like that! It's the new improved Stephanie Plum!"

"Tough tomatoes, indeed," Tina high-fived me. "So, you're gonna be a June bride, Stevie?"

"Yep. I sure am! And I've decided to surprise Carlos by planning our reception at _Rosa's_! Carlos loves the place and so do I. Papa and Alejandro have known him for years, they know the kind of food he likes. They have a great band with singers and so that'll be _another_ surprise for Carlos! We'll have Cuban food and Latin dancing and I've already got my colors planned! Red, white and blue! Very patriotic! He introduced me to his attorney and----"

"Wait a minute! I didn't hear this part!"

"Of course you didn't, Tina! We met Mateo at _Rosa's_ by sheer accident. He just happened to be meeting a client of his there. He was at the bar when we got there, and we had a drink and chatted. And I'm going to use Mateo to help me invite Carlos' friends and family to the ceremony. They've known each other for years and years, and Mateo is Papa's nephew!"

"Well _that _works out well," Mary Lou agreed, "You've done lots of thinking about it, for sure!"

"I have. I've been thinking non-stop since Carlos left this morning. I have it all well in hand. Even though I'm sure Carlos gave me the wedding to plan to keep my spirits up, I'm going to show him I can create the absolutely _perfect_ wedding without him here! Even though we've known each other all of 3 days or so, he's going to be so surprised that I know his tastes so well---"

"Steph, honey, he'll love whatever you plan, didn't you say he told you that?"

"He did. But I want to make him really really proud of me. I'm going to order a groom's cake with a Superman theme, too! And have Superman and Wonder Woman on it!"

"You could get a cake topper with them together, I'm sure," Mary Lou interjected. "Or have one made for you, out of polymer clay. You can even have them designed with your faces on the figurines, like Lenny's cousin did. _His_ face, I mean: not Lenny's."

"Lenny's cousin had his face put on a Superman figure?" Tina laughed, "That 110 lb weakling?"

"No, silly! He had his face and his wife's put on clay figurines dressed in Star Trek uniforms. Don't ask me why!" Mary Lou warned, "They're not my favorite people. Apparently they went to some Trekkie convention and they had a photo of themselves in costume. And this artist they found designed the figurines and they put them on a birthday cake shaped like the Enterprise. The Star Trek ship. Never mind! But the whole point is, I know you can do it! It would be so cool to have your face and Carlos' on the figurines, and stick them on the Superman/Wonder Woman cake!"

"This is for the groom's cake," I stressed, "That's going to be my surprise for Carlos, since his military buddies call him Superman. The _actual_ wedding cake, I'm going to go very traditional."

"Too bad you couldn't get married on July 4th, if you want to do a patriotic red, white and blue theme. Hey: isn't that also Superman and Wonder Woman's costume colors?" Tina asked, suspiciously.

"Ummmm, yeah." I grinned, "So I knew he'd love it! But honestly, I know he'll have tons of his Army buddies there: he _loves_ the Army. But July 4th is out, unfortunately--he'll have to ship off to North Carolina on July 6th. No time for a honeymoon!"

"Oh, that's right," Tina said, "Well, are you doing the military uniforms thing, at least? And the crossed swords and that whole thing?"

"I don't know," I admitted, "Carlos doesn't wear a uniform. I mean---"

"That's right, he didn't have one on today, did he?" Tina looked over at Mary Lou. "You know what that means, don't you?"

"Yeah." I met Tina's eye and said nothing.

"What does it mean?" Mary Lou asked, innocently.

"Delta Force." Tina's voice was positive.

"Yeah. But that stays between us. Not for public discussion, he said."

"That's really top secret dangerous stuff," Mary Lou said softly. "OMIGOD! That's why it's a 90% fatality rate!"

"Thanks for reminding me. Lou," I sighed morosely, "I almost forgot. They go in first….that's what he said……"

"But he's Superman," Tina chimed in to remind me. "And they call him that for a _reason_, sweetie! He's got to be damned good at what he does for them to want him teaching the recruits! He'll be fine! He'll be home in 18 months; you'll be married, and he'll be out of the military and all will work out fine. He promised. _Remember_?"

"He did," I smiled, determined to stay positive. I looked down at my ring and watched it shimmering like a rainbow after a storm. "He's Superman, and I'm Wonder Woman. And we're going to be just fine."

And we were. We _had_ to be! I refused to consider any other outcome!

I brightened. "Did I tell you about my new career?"

By the time I'd finished recounting my encounter with Dawson Books, and my decision to give notice at EE Martin to take the job designing lingerie for Books Designs, my mood had brightened again. I believed that everything happened for a reason, that the Universe put out what you needed in answer to your prayers. And I was being given this wonderful opportunity now to enable me to create that life that I'd dreamed about. And I would!

"So anyway, he names the salary, and I almost fall over. It's twice what I'm paid now! Plus I'm going to get royalties for all of my designs!"

"I hope you're getting this in writing, kiddo," Mary Lou said firmly. "Not that I haven't heard of Dawson Books. Hell, he's been in the lingerie industry forever. And he sure does need a fresh and innovative new designer: his stuff is so dated it isn't funny!"

"Mrs. Lebowitz is gonna shit bricks over this," Tina hooted, "She's so sure you're hers for life! It probably never occurred to her that you'd ever look somewhere else for a job. But Mary Lou is right: you need a firm contract or else---"

"I'm meeting Dawson at _Rosa's_ on Wednesday evening for a business meeting, and he's going to have the papers with him," I reassured them, "I called Carlos' friend Mateo Herrera--he's going to be my attorney, as well as Carlos'--and then if he gives me the OK, I'll give EE Martin my two weeks' notice and POOF! I'm outta there and into my new digs. A huge new office--bigger than our conference room--and a secretary all my own. And an expense account! So I can afford to replace my clunker of a car and buy a gorgeous wedding dress! And get Carlos' wedding ring."

"And pay for your own wedding, so your mother can't have anything to complain about," Tina grinned.

"Didn't I tell you: the Universe provides!" I crowed. "And I'm going to run this wedding my _own_ way. My mother isn't going to like it, but that's how it's going to be! I did a wedding to the Dickster her way. And see how _that _mess turned out! This time I'm going to get what _I_ want."

"I'm impressed," Mary Lou decided, "And I vote we have the next girls' night out at _Rosa's_! How about for Steph's birthday this Saturday?"

"What do you say, birthday girl? Mary Lou and I will treat you!" Tina invited, as both friends wore ear-to-ear smiles. "Are we on for dinner?"

"Absolutely!" I hugged my friends impulsively. "You've got a date!"

I had the best friends in the world!


	51. Chapter 51

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 51

The fact that Tina, Mary Lou and I had consumed two bottles of wine over dinner meant that by the time my head hit the pillow well after midnight, I was out like a light in mere seconds. Although I'd been more than in the mood to cry myself to sleep missing Carlos, I was far too woozy to keep my eyes open to follow through on it by the time my girlfriends had left for the night. I don't remember having any dreams--good, bad or indifferent. What I _do_ remember is that I can't hold my liquor worth shit. Wine especially gives me brutal headaches the next day. You'd really think I'd learn, wouldn't you? _Yeesh! _

That's why the next morning I found myself needing to drag my poor hung-over self out of bed and take up residence under the shower for an indecent length of time before I felt even partly human. Or before I could even contemplate the unwelcome thought of going in to work and staying awake all day to take another round of seemingly endless meetings with the lingerie vendors who were beating a steady stream to my door at this busy time of the year. Everyone, after all, wanted to be in stock at EE Martin's in time for Christmas gift-shopping!

To say nothing about having the extremely unhappy thought that I was due at Chez Plum at 6pm sharp for dinner with She Who Must Be Obeyed. Aka Ellen _"Why Me?" _Plum. Aka my mother. Believe me, if I could have gotten away with calling in sick for _either_ commitment, I would have done so in a red-hot minute! Especially for that dreaded dinner date, during which time I had decided to bite the bullet and reveal my betrothal to a non-Burg guy who wasn't even around to be dragged to dinner to get my mother's blessing. It wasn't going to be even remotely pretty. But, alas, I was stuck….

Stuck in the _literal_ as well as the figurative sense, mind you! Just after 7:45 am, I found myself sitting in the mother of all traffic jams on Broad Street in Newark with my head still throbbing and my mood rapidly declining from Not All That Happy to Totally Despondent. It wasn't _fair_, I tell you! Here I was--against all odds--awake, dressed, and semi-ready to take on the Lingerie Wars and emerge victorious. I had miraculously managed to leave Trenton at close to my usual time, and I should have been to work at my little cubicle in EE Martin's….well, just about _now_. As usual, about now, I'd have been meeting Tina for our usual trek downstairs to the company cafeteria for morning coffee and Boston cream donuts.

Instead, I was going to be late for work _again,_ and no doubt that self-satisfied bitch Mrs. Lebowitz would rake me over the coals for it. I swear, that old Battle Ax looked for ways to put me on report! Well, at least it would only be a few more days before I could wipe that self-satisfied smirk off her _Botoxed-to-an-inch-of-its-life _face by handing in my 2 weeks notice! Assuming the contracts worked out as I thought, once Dawson and I and our attorneys met for dinner tomorrow night….

Now _that _was a dinner I was looking forward to! Somehow, I'd felt very at home in _Rosa's _from the minute I'd arrived; and I knew the memories of that magical evening with Carlos would be comforting ones. Papa had been very sweet to me, as had Alejandro and Mateo. The food Papa had selected for me, and Alejandro had prepared, had been _divine_! My mouth was watering just thinking about it! I was looking forward to having more of those Papas Rellenas. And I was hoping I could get Papa to recommend to me some of Carlos' favorite dishes: he knew Carlos so well! Then, after Dawson and I had finished our business, I planned to pull Papa aside and make an appointment with him to book Rosa's for my June 2010 wedding to Carlos.

I found myself distracted from the excruciatingly slow traffic by thoughts of my upcoming wedding. I wondered where Carlos was right at this very instant, and if he was thinking about me. Looking down at my left hand, I marveled again at the elegance of the clustered opal ring he'd selected for me. I guess technically it was now an engagement ring as well as a promise ring? _Regardless_, it showed I was off the market as far as any other men were concerned! The only man in the world for me was Ricardo Carlos Manoso. I loved the sound of his name. I loved the thought of being Mrs. Stephanie Manoso. I just loved…_him_!

Carlos had told me to plan my dream wedding, and that was what I intended to do--with a passion! My wedding to Dickie had been _my mother's _dog and pony show, not _mine_. And look how _that _had turned out! Well, this one was going to be done _my_ way! And I'd keep Carlos' taste in mind, as well as my own, of course. This was going to be, in a way, my gift to him: _his _dream wedding. Mateo would help me if I asked; he knew Carlos since they were kids, according to what Carlos had told me. And Papa and Alejandro knew him well too. And so did I, really: after all, we'd spent hours and hours talking---when we weren't burning up the sheets, that is. This would be a dream wedding for both Carlos _and_ for me! I had no doubt about that.

It really wasn't too early to start booking vendors, even though the wedding was over a year and a half away, I reminded myself. That would keep my mind off Carlos being gone…or so I told myself. I needed to call St. Stephen's church, my home parish, to book a date for the wedding as soon as possible: June would be a very popular month. Of course the minute I did that, my mother would hear about it: the Burg gossips were _everywhere_! So I'd spill the news to my mother tonight, and call the church _tomorrow_. That way I'd have the date to give Papa tomorrow night. God, I really hoped _Rosa's_ was available! _Should be, though, _I reassured myself. If they were booked for that date in June, then I'd just change the date, re-book the church and make sure we could have the reception at _Rosa's_. Papa would take good care of us, I was sure of that, somehow.

Lost in thought, I inched the car through the horrendous traffic. We'd have the church wedding in Chambersburg, and the reception in Newark. _Rosa's _was about an hour away from the Burg. The wedding party would travel in white limos. The guests would be provided with directions with their invitations. An hour wasn't that far a drive, really…..

Or maybe I should find a _new_ parish? I had plenty of time to find a Catholic church in _Newark_, and join that parish. After all, I was going to be spending most of my time in Newark, since Books Designs was based there. And I had a thought that maybe, come January of 2009, I would enroll in some business classes at Rutgers University's Newark campus. So I'd be truly prepared for the day I started my own lingerie label. I'd call my own label _Babe_! I smiled, imagining Carlos' face when he returned in 18 months to find me heading my own company. He'd be so proud of me! He'd know that I'd kept my promise to him and used the time we were apart to _fly_!

Finally, mercifully, I was able to turn off Broad Street--which resembled a parking lot by this time--and get on to Market Street. I was only about 10 minutes away from EE Martin now. I looked down at the clock on the dashboard, groaning when I realized that technically in 2 minutes I was _officially_ going to be late. That damned bitch Mrs. Lebowitz had probably already marked the attendance log!

I sighed, then my attention turned to the radio, which had begun playing Leona Lewis' rendition of the old Roberta Flack classic, "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face."

**First Time Ever I Saw Your Face**

_The first time ever I saw your face _

_I thought the sun rose in your eyes _

_And the moon and stars were the gifts you gave _

_To the dark and the empty skies, my love, _

_To the dark and the empty skies. _

Oh, God, I recalled vividly the first time ever I saw Carlos' unbelievably handsome face! I smiled goofily, thinking of the moment at the bar when I turned and literally crashed into his chest and then looked up to discover the most gorgeous man on the planet.

_The first time ever I kissed your mouth _

_And felt your heart beat close to mine _

_Like the trembling heart of a captive bird _

_That was there at my command, my love _

_That was there at my command. _

The first time we kissed! In that sundry shop in the hotel, after I'd made that idiotic assumption that he was stopping in to pick up a few candy bars. He'd given me an affectionate look and then taken me completely by surprise with his intoxicating kiss. I could still feel his warm lips on mine, even now. I'd never forget that feeling….

_And the first time ever I lay with you _

_I felt your heart so close to mine _

_And I knew our joy would fill the earth _

_And last till the end of time my love _

_It would last till the end of time my love _

The first time we'd had sex. My crazy Intergalactic Princess Stephanie of Chambersburg and her Sex Slave Carlos fantasy! It had been the most unbelievably searing white-hot primitive sex I'd ever had. And it had led to more and more--and before long, the fucking had turned into love-making. Cuddling in his arms afterwards, spent, satisfied in a way I'd never felt before with anyone else. Safe in Carlos' arms. Knowing that we were meant to be together forever.

_The first time ever I saw your face, your face, your face, your face _

The strains of the lovely romantic song faded away, and I felt a sudden peace descend on me. Carlos was with me; he would _always_ be with me. And after he returned from his mission--and he _would_ return--we would marry and spend the rest of our lives together. And we'd do it on _our_ terms, not the Burg's. I would let my inner Wonder Woman out, and I'd actively take control of my life--and I'd do it _my _way. My mother was not going to intimidate me anymore with her 'why me?' riffs and her 'Valerie wouldn't do that' rants. Carlos loved me exactly as I was. And if my mother didn't accept me that way, that was _her _loss!

I pulled into the parking lot of EE Martin and checked my watch. 9:12. I parked, closed the door of my POS Nova, and headed inside to face the wrath of the notorious Mrs. Lebowitz. Well, let her come at me! I reminded myself that I had _another_ job--a much much _better_ job--that I would be starting in just over 2 weeks' time. Oh yeah, I was ready to rumble if she gave me any of her usual beyond-bitchy attitude!

Tossing my purse on my desk, I slipped out of my coat. The phone on my desk rang immediately. Of course.

"Good morning, EE Martin, this is Stephanie Plum speaking. How may I help you?" I had my little greeting down pat by now, having spoken it hundreds, if not thousands of times. God, I couldn't wait to get the hell out of here, I realized suddenly. I was more tired of this job than I had ever imagined.

"Relax, girl, it's just me."

I smiled, recognizing Tina's voice. "I know, I know, I'm late. Want to head down for coffee now, or did you go without me?"

"I waited," Tina replied, "I figured you'd have a hard time dragging your sorry little butt out of the sack this morning. I know _I _did!"

"Believe it or not, I actually managed to leave pretty much on-time," I protested, "I just got stuck in that God-awful traffic jam on Broad Street. I was making great time until I got into Newark. Then that was it, I wasn't going anywhere for the longest time."

"You-know-who was at your desk looking for you," came my friend's warning, "If we're going for coffee, we'd better leave now. Meet you at the elevator."

"You got it," I hung up and looked around. No Mrs. Lebowitz in sight! I made quick tracks for the elevator, and saw Tina coming towards me from the other direction as I reached the elevator bank. "I hope the Boston creams are still there." They went quickly, and it would bum me out no end to miss my usual breakfast and be forced to go with a powdered donut instead. I needed my morning fix of caffeine and chocolate, after all!

Snagging the elevator all to ourselves, we rode down to the first floor, where the EE Martin employee cafeteria was located. It was busy; we had a long wait. But I scored my Boston creams, so all was well in my world!

"How'd you do last night, sweetie?"

"Actually, I pretty much crashed the second my head hit the pillow. Thanks for coming over--"

"It was fun. Remember: I live vicariously through you, Stevie."

"Well your vicarious me has a dinner date tonight with my mother. I'm going to tell her about Carlos and me--and if she gets upset, _to hell with it_. I'm in Wonder Woman mode. And Wonder Woman isn't afraid of _anyone_, even Ellen Plum!"

"Good for you! Show her the pictures of you and Carlos," Tina suggested, "Anyone can see how much in love you two are in those pictures."

"I was thinking of him while I was driving here this morning," I said, as we hit the register. "I'm going to start planning the wedding. It's not too early, right?"

"Right. You gotta book now to get what you want."

"Which is---_you_ as my Maid of Honor," I smiled, "If that's OK with you?"

"Stevie, I'd love it! Thanks for asking me!" Tina grinned, and her eyes sparkled, "That means _I _get to throw the bachelorette party!"

"Just as long as you don't hire the geek who stripped for us Friday night!"

"We already kicked Gladys' fat ass for that one. Amanda and Joy and Melinda and I let her know in no uncertain terms that we knew we'd been robbed. Bitch had the nerve to say she spent every penny we gave her on 'entertainment'."

"Yeah, but _whose_ entertainment are we talking about? She probably went to Atlantic City with our money…."

"That's my bet. Anyway, your stripper will be personally selected by _moi_. And he won't be some nerd, like the last loser. Guaranteed!"

"Good! Now I want some advice." I bit my lip as we headed back to the elevator, "I wanted to ask Mary Lou to be my Matron of Honor, too. Would it be too crazy or tacky or whatever to have _both_ a Maid of Honor and a Matron of Honor? It's just that I've known Lou since we were kids, and _both_ of you are my best friends, and I don't want to hurt her feelings--"

"You know what? You ask her, and to hell with what anyone thinks about whether you can or you can't have both! It's _your _wedding, Stevie! Mary Lou and I get along great. We'll share the duties, and no one's feelings will be hurt!"

"Thanks, Tina! I figure Carlos has Mateo, he'll probably ask him to be his Best Man. And I'm sure he has someone else he can name as a second Best Man. Maybe his brother? He said they were starting to get close again, after all the turmoil they had in the family. Or maybe he has an Army buddy--"

"Maybe Lester?" Tina grinned, "Are you going to have a military wedding? I'd love to see them all in formal dress uniforms. And you can have them do that crossed sword thing! You know what I mean! Where they all form a line and you and Carlos walk under their crossed swords!"

"Omigod, I'd _love_ to see Carlos in uniform," I confessed, "But I don't know if that's possible."

"Why wouldn't it be? He's going to officially be in the military when you're married," Tina reminded me. "Even being in Delta Force--" she'd lowered her voice, so that no one could over-hear us, "--they _must_ have some sort of dress uniform they wear for attending military events."

"I'm going to ask Melinda," I decided, "Her uncle was _you-know-what_. She could check with him on whether or not it's possible. But if it is, that's what I'd prefer: I could just imagine how handsome Carlos would look in a uniform! And he loves the military, so I'm sure he'd really appreciate having any military touches in there that we can think of!"

"You still thinking red, white and blue for your colors?"

"Well, that's my plan right now. Depends on what we find in the way of bridesmaids' dresses, I think. I don't want you girls having to wear some God-awful gown you hate and will never wear again. Remember Kelly's wedding?"

"I do, definitely. What a nightmare those dresses were! But I could wear either red or blue," Tina shrugged, "And with Mary Lou's coloring, so can she. Just remember Melinda is a red-head, so she isn't going to like the idea of red too much…."

"You're right. Maybe we look for a dark blue, like the flag color? For the bridesmaids, I mean."

"OK, that's good. You should have a good selection to choose from. And you can have everyone carry red roses!"

"Yeah," I nodded, "That would work. Depends on the dresses we find, though. If you and Lou are in red, I wouldn't want you carrying red roses too. That would be red overload."

"Well, first things first, Stevie: we gotta find you a drop-dead gorgeous, to-die-for wedding dress! Then we can look for bridesmaids' dresses and maid and matron of honor dresses. And you'll need a flower girl."

"I'm thinking outside the box there, too," I sighed, "Mary Lou's little girl Michelle is my top pick, naturally. But I have two nieces--and I can't ignore _them_. So I'm thinking three flower girls--"

"Hey, why not? They could each sprinkle petals of a different color: red, white and blue!"

"OMIGOD! I _love_ that, Tina! We can look for dresses and have the sashes be the same color as the bridesmaids' dresses."

"Perfect! I can't wait to start--"

"_Miss Plum_," the voice was unmistakable. Mrs. Lebowitz had made her entrance, in true Wicked Witch of the West fashion. In fact, now that I thought about it, the resemblance to Margaret Hamilton--minus the green skin--was uncanny! The only thing missing was her broom and the thick cloud of smoke! "How kind of you to join us this morning. You're _27_ minutes late."

"No, I'm not," I protested, "I was only _12_ minutes late, thanks to the traffic jam on Broad Street, which was totally _not _my fault! I went to the cafeteria after I got to my desk---"

"_27_ minutes of EE Martin time has been wasted on you this morning thus far," came her snarky reply, "27 minutes of paid time that you will naturally have to make up by staying later this afternoon. And you're officially on report, so that if you're late two more times you'll be written up in a letter to be placed in your personnel file. This will, of course, reflect poorly upon you when it comes time for your review this September."

"Not a worry to me," I out-snarked her, "_At all. _EE Martin will get their precious 27 minutes out of me this afternoon. And you can write up whatever the hell you want to write up--and stuff it wherever the hell you want to! I presume you know where I'd prefer that you put it. As for my review in September, I somehow doubt that it will matter much, given the circumstances." _Which are, that before too long I'll be officially writing you my 2 weeks notice. And you can kiss my ass, bitch!_

"You are a very bold thing with an extremely nasty attitude," Mrs. Lebowitz glared at me in icy contempt.

It was a throw-down I was quite willing--even eager--to accept.

"Thank you very much," I smiled back, all regal politeness. "I'm '_very bold'_, am I? Well, coming from someone with your many many _decades _of experience, I take that as a great complement."

Tina's face was priceless, and I knew she was desperately holding back her laughter.

"It was _not_ intended as a complement, Miss Plum," Mrs. Lebowitz said, the haughty look on her face showing for the first time some confusion.

_Damn! _I was good at the out-glaring thing! "Regardless." My voice was dismissive, "I have important work to do. So if you're finished here, I can get to my desk and start doing what I'm paid to do. Which is not to be berated by _you_."

"I'll be watching you like a hawk, Miss Plum. Like a hawk. Put even one tiny little step out of line, and you'll regret it. That I _promise_ you."

"You watch away. Let's see who regrets what, shall we?" I winked at Tina, who had decided to take the opportunity to head back to her desk. Fortunately for her, she didn't have to answer to Mrs. L: Tina was an Administrative Assistant to one of the EE Martin partners.

Mrs. Lebowitz gave me a dismissive sniff, and I happily ambled back to my cubicle and got to work. I was truly in Wonder Woman mode today! And Wonder Woman didn't take shit from _anyone_!

Tuesday was just as busy as Monday had been, with a parade of no less than four vendors lined up to occupy my time. I took a special interest in my job today, examining the lines and the styles of the lingerie more closely than usual. In just over 2 weeks' time I myself would be among the leagues of designers! And I had _tons _of ideas I just needed to get down on paper!

Before I knew it, it was quitting time. Having given EE Martin their precious 27 minutes, I headed down to my little piece of shit car and braved the afternoon rush hour once again. My mind was back where it had started: on the wedding! I'd been busy at lunchtime: I'd run down to the newsstand in the lobby and picked up no less than four bridal magazines; then I'd checked with girlfriends to find out which bridal shops they recommended. I'd even done some doodling myself, sketching out the kind of dress I wanted to wear on my special day. I wasn't doing the poufy princess thing that I'd worn for my wedding to Dickie The Prick. I wanted something more form-fitting, something downright sexy and sensual. Strapless. Something elegant, but daring just the same. And I had all the time in the world to find it!

The fact that I'd left work a half an hour later than usual meant that I was now totally stuck in the afternoon rush hour. Broad Street in Newark at 4:30pm is a true nightmare, trust me. I inched along in traffic, still in my wedding planning mode. I knew that once I told my mother I was engaged, she would throw a fit over the fact that I was marrying a man I'd just met. One that she couldn't vet herself for over a year and a half. One who wasn't from the Burg. I was mentally prepared for the litany of questions and 'why me?' comments that would be aimed at me this evening. Then, I knew, once she realized I wasn't going to be talked out of it, she would jump into her wedding planner mode. Or try to. I'd put a quick stop to that, too!

I rehearsed my 'this is my wedding' argument, and I was determined to hold firm. After all, this time I was paying my own way! I was going to have double the income coming in from my job--and then royalties for my designs on top of it! I knew damned well how pushy my mother was when it came to getting what she wanted. Well, this time the irresistible force was going to meet the truly unmovable object! My wedding was going to be just that: _my_ wedding, not _hers_! I'd even take it one step further: I'd select a few dresses suitable for her to wear, and I'd give her a choice. I'd pay for the dress, and _I'd_ keep the control. I smiled. Damn, I felt _gooooooood_!

Grinning ear to ear, I started humming the Wonder Woman theme, and before long I was belting out the lyrics, and bopping along happily, traffic be damned!

**Wonder Woman (by Norman Gimble and Charles Fox)**

_Wonder Woman, Wonder Woman. _

_All the world is waiting for you, _

_and the power you possess. _

_In your satin tights, _

_Fighting for our rights _

_And the old Red, White and Blue. _

_Wonder Woman, Wonder Woman. _

_Now the world is ready for you, _

_and the wonders you can do. _

_Make a hawk a dove. _

_Stop a war with love. _

_Make a liar tell the truth. _

_Wonder Woman, _

_Get us out from under, Wonder Woman. _

_All our hopes are pinned upon you. _

_And the magic that you do. _

_Stop a bullet cold. _

_Make the Axis fold. _

_Change their minds, _

_and change the world. _

_Wonder Woman, Wonder Woman. _

_You're a wonder, Wonder Woman. _

"Change their minds, and change the world," I sang loudly, head bopping to the music I heard clearly in my head, "Wonder Woman! Wonder Woman! You're a wonder, Wonder Woman!" I finished with the requisite, _Doo-dah-doo-dah-doo, doo-dah-doo-DAH! _And then pumped my opal-tennis-bracelet-clad hand in the air in a final triumphant gesture. Hell, I was so damned into it by now that I was just lucky I didn't try twirling and changing into my official Wonder Woman costume!

By the time I reached the Burg, I was more than ready for _anything_ Ellen Plum was going to toss my way!

_But then, I might have underestimated my mother…_


	52. Chapter 52

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned. This chapter isn't kind to Joe Morelli, so if that bothers you, be warned._

Chapter 52

My first indication that things were not going to go as they usually did at Chez Plum tonight was the fact that neither my mother nor my grandmother was standing watch at the door when I pulled up in front of the immaculately kept 2-story Colonial on Bridge Street, where I'd grown up. This was highly unusual, in that my maternal relatives seemed to have an uncanny, almost-supernatural sense of when I would be arriving at the house, even if my visit was completely unexpected. Which this one certainly wasn't.

I checked my watch. Nope, it wasn't 6pm or later. Dinner wasn't on the table yet. I'd been mindful of my promise to my mother to arrive early so that I that could have a few words with my father and grandmother in what would be, I was sure, a vain attempt to broker a lasting peace between the warring parties. My mother knew I was coming, and coming early. My POS car was anything but silent, and I'd scored a parking spot directly in front of the house. So what the hell was keeping them from their usual vigil?

Warily, I climbed out and looked around, expecting God only knows what. My spidey sense, as I called it, was on the alert._ Danger, danger, Will Robinson!_ I steeled myself for the unexpected, and moved slowly up the walkway as if I were creeping into Enemy territory. Which, in a way, I suppose I was. Especially tonight, given the unwelcome news I was determined to announce to my mother.

Giving a brief knock, I opened the door, revealing my presence with a call of hello. There was no answer. _OK, then! _Where was everyone?

Pausing in the foyer, I heard a voice coming from the formal living room to my right. I didn't recognize it--or, should I say, there was _something_ whirling around on the tip of my brain (so to speak), but I couldn't for the life of me name that tune. If you follow my mixed metaphors. Most people can't. But, to make it more plain: I kinda sorta thought that maybe I _should_ know the voice, but I couldn't actually put a name to it to save my life.

Rounding the corner to the living room, I stood speechless as I took in the scene before me: my gleeful grandmother was clearly pinching some stranger's ass as my mother looked on in open horror, and my father ignored the show in favor of a car-chase film on his new flat-screen TV! The ass looked kind of familiar to me too, to tell the truth. But as I couldn't see the guy's face, I was going to have to fail miserably as a contestant in the Name That Ass contest. I needed more of a hint. _So, call me slow!_

As my grandmother landed her pinch, the ass jumped about 2 feet and pulled away, foiling my sex-crazed grandmother's determined attempt to get yet another squeeze in.

That's when my mother, sensing my presence--or, more likely, hearing my open gasp of disbelief--whirled around. Unfortunately, I was spotted before I could follow my perfectly-natural inclination to back away from all of the madness and run the hell home to my apartment, where I could be 100% certain that Rex would never mortify me as Grandma Mazur was, it seemed, determined to do tonight.

"Stephanie! Thank God!" my mother greeted me in relief, "You're here!"

_DUH. _Of course I was here. That much seemed obvious, even to me. What wasn't as obvious to me was _why_ exactly I was here. This wasn't going to be a fun visit even _before_ I walked in on my grandmother pinching some stranger's ass. It was going to be even less fun now.

Meanwhile, the stranger had turned around when my Mom called my name. He looked relieved to see me, and took the opportunity to get as far away as possible from my grandmother's dangerous vicinity. "Hey, Cupcake! Long time, no see!"

Oh shit. Joe Morelli! Of all the people I _wasn't_ in the mood to play nice with tonight, it was the guy who'd taken my virginity on the floor of the _Tasty Pastry _when I was 16--and then felt the need to write about it on the wall of _Mario's Sub Shop_! The last time I'd seen Morelli--fabled to have the 'best ass in Trenton'--was when I ran over him in my Uncle Sandor's Buick, Big Blue, when I was 18 and Morelli was just back from the Navy. I'd broken one of Morelli's legs then--and I was mad enough at him that he was just damned good and lucky that I hadn't backed up and tried to break the _other _one. Or some other appendage. If you catch my drift. I was most definitely _not_ in the mood for Morelli, tonight or any other night.

"Don't call me Cupcake," I glared at him in annoyance.

He grinned back, clearly enjoying my discomfiture. His eyes did a slow and open assessment of my body. "You look good, Steph."

Now the polite answer would have been, "So do you." And he _did_: Morelli had always been a good-looking guy. Which was the damned reason I'd been on my back on the floor of the _Tasty Pastry _in the first place. Watching the best ass in Trenton pull up his tightly fitting blue jeans and move on after I'd given him my virginity behind the éclair case. _Ass._ Figuratively, I mean, not literally. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Stephanie, is that any way to talk to our dinner guest?" My mother sent me an unhappy glare, which I matched and sent right back her way.

"_Dinner guest? _You invited _Joe Morelli_ to join us for dinner?" I was not a happy camper. Especially since I was hearing this little '_oh no, she didn't_' voice in my ear.

As if to confirm what my almost-unerring spidey sense had begun to suspect, my mother lowered her eyes and shifted guiltily. Oh yes, indeed she _had_……

Ellen Plum, Matchmaker Extraordinaire! I was 26 (a week from 27, in fact) and not married anymore--and therefore I was 'on the market' as far as my mother was concerned. _Why me? Lorna Cypowitz' daughters are all married. _I could almost hear her whiney voice in my ear, like an annoying mosquito I desperately wanted to swat.

And I suddenly began to put 2 and 2 together to get a very unwelcome 4: Morelli had handled the case over the weekend when my grandmother had shot my father's gun at the neighbor's handyman, thinking he was a burglar. Morelli had convinced the handyman not to press charges, and he'd let my grandmother off with a stern warning. He'd allowed my mother to avoid the indignity of having her own flesh and blood hauled into court yet _again_. That alone had elevated him to hero status, in Ellen Plum's book. The fact that he was--or so I strongly suspected--single and available had sealed the deal: he was immediately promoted to the top of the official 'Ellen Plum Available Candidates For My Daughter's Husband' list.

I now began to suspect that all of her urgent, '_Come home as soon as possible_' messages this weekend--all 314 of them, it seemed like--were, in fact, her opening salvos aimed at matching me with Morelli. He was Burg all the way. He was a Trenton cop. His mother and grandmother shopped at the same grocery store that my mother did. His family had lived in the Burg as long as the Plums had. They were Catholic. Both the Morellis and the Plums attended St. Stephen's church. He was Italian. And my mother, I knew, remembered all too well that I'd had a big thing for Morelli back when I was in high school.

Crapity, crap, crap. Did I say tonight was not going to be fun? Scratch that: it was going to be a _train wreck_!

You know how sometimes your brain has a moment when it totally short-circuits or something, and you find yourself opening up your big mouth and just blurting out some things when you least expect to? Things that if you put even a second's worth of thought into, you would never in a million years actually say? Or say like that, without some kind of warm-up or something. OK, so maybe that's just _me _who does that. A lot.

But the point was, I did it _again_. Right then and there. It wasn't really my fault, though: I was taken completely by surprise by Morelli's unexpected appearance. And I wanted to stop what was, I was certain, going to be the non-stop sales pitch my mother was going to make of me to Morelli over the usual Tuesday evening pot roast.

"I'm engaged!" I held up my left hand, waving it frantically at the assemblage of now completely silent people in the living room.

Even my father looked up from the TV without waiting for a commercial. Everyone, Morelli included, looked dumb-founded.

Yep, he was soooooooooooo there to check me out for a future hook-up! I saw him give my mother a quick look, as if to say, 'Why am _I_ here, then?'

My mother was, for once, left totally and completely speechless. Which I could perfectly well understand. I mean, think about it: the whole point of getting Morelli over for dinner in the first place was to start the ball rolling to get me to the altar. And, wonder of wonders, here I was, the unsuspecting fly walking right into the over-bearing spider's parlor with the long-desired engagement ring already on my finger--albeit with no guy on my arm--saying, '_Congratulations, Ellen Plum! You've just won the matrimonial sweepstakes!_' Or saying something like that. You know what I mean. I'm sure you do.

"Lemme see that there ring!" My grandmother had my hand in hers in less than a minute, and she was squinting at the ring in confusion. "This here ain't no diamond! What kind of an engagement ring _is_ it, anyway? Are you sure the fella means business, not just _funny_ business?"

"Pumpkin? I didn't know you were seeing anyone," my father rose from his armchair and headed over to take a look at the ring himself.

"Actually, I just met him this Friday night. _Saturday afternoon_, I mean," I corrected myself quickly, remembering my sanitized 'how we met' cover story. "I danced with him on Saturday. At Stella's wedding. Which was on Saturday. Like I said," I blurted out, before I realized that I sounded completely deranged. "His name is Carlos Manoso. Ricardo Carlos Manoso. He's a Captain in the Army. We're in love and we're getting married in June, 2010. You're all invited." I looked around, realizing that I'd managed to make a complete mess of the announcement.

So much for being Wonder Woman! Maybe I should have twirled around outside the front door and tried for the costume, after all?

"What do you mean, you met him on Saturday and now you're getting _married_? Who is this man? And where is he?" my mother looked around the room, as if she expected me to produce Carlos out of my hip pocket.

I ignored Morelli's amused smirk, and reached inside my handbag for the dozen or so photos of Carlos--minus the shirtless hunk pose--that I'd brought with me as Exhibit B. Exhibit A was shimmering on my left hand ring finger, and I felt compelled to defend it as I handed my mother the photos. "Technically it's a 'promise' ring, but since Carlos proposed after he gave it to me, I suppose it's also my engagement ring."

"You _suppose_ it's your engagement ring?" My mother's horrified voice rose two octaves. "You don't even _know_ if you're engaged?" She sorted through the photos dismissively. "Why _me_? Dolores Trejakowski's daughter doesn't meet a man on Saturday away from home and come back 3 nights later engaged to him!"

"That's because Karen Trejakowski is a _lesbian_, mother. And of course I know I'm engaged. He asked me and I said yes."

Morelli was openly laughing now, and my father was just standing there looking confused.

My grandmother had grabbed the photos next and was giving them a slow and careful examination. "Is he a Negro? I always wondered if it was true what they say about their packages--"

My mother crossed herself, and my father muttered, "Crazy old bat!" under his breath. This was so not going well!

I took a deep breath, "No, Grandma, he's not a Negro. Carlos is Cuban-American." I wisely avoided a discussion about the size of his package.

"Why didn't you bring him to dinner tonight?" my mother asked, suspiciously.

I guess she suspected I'd invented our engagement out of thin air, just to foil her plans to start the ball rolling to make me Mrs. Joseph Morelli. I surreptitiously checked the ring finger of his left hand. Yep. As I suspected. It was empty.

"Carlos has gone overseas on a tour of duty," I watched as another look of unhappiness flew across my mother's all-too-expressive face. "He shipped out yesterday morning for 18 months."

"Army, huh?" my father was slowly and carefully processing the information as he took his turn examining the photos. "He's not a Negro? You sure about that? He's awful dark-looking." My father, God love him, was not exactly the most fair-minded of people.

I sighed deeply, "Yes, Daddy, I'm sure: Carlos is Cuban-American. And yes--he's a Captain in the Army."

"An _officer_, huh? Good man. He ever been married before?" he looked at me, then down at the photos again.

"No, never. He's 26 and he's Catholic," I added, seeing that my mother was at least happy with _those_ answers. "He's got a big family, too. Mother and father and grandmother. And an older brother and five sisters. And tons of nieces and nephews. We're planning a _huge_ wedding. In June of 2010. Like I said. You're all invited." I glared at Morelli, who'd reached out for the photos. "Except for _you_, that is."

"_Stephanie! _Joseph is our guest!" My mother was mortified. It just wasn't done in the Burg to be rude to a guest! "Mind your manners!"

At this Wonder Woman bristled, and began to show signs of life again. I gave my mother my all-knowing-all-seeing look. "I know _exactly _why you invited him tonight, Mom. And it isn't going to work."

Morelli and my mother shared a guilty look. Oh, I was sooooo right about their ulterior motives!

"I'm not interested," I said, taking the opportunity to snatch the photos out of Morelli's hands and stuff them back into the safety of my handbag. "I'm officially off the market! Carlos and I are in love and we're getting married when he gets back from his tour of duty. And nothing _anybody _says is going to change my mind! So just save your energy, Mom. I don't care if Esther Roskewitz' daughter never got engaged to a guy she just met a few days before. Or if Georgette Klosperini's daughter wouldn't meet a guy and get engaged without introducing him to her family. _I don't care. _I love Carlos. Carlos loves me. And _I'm_ getting married. To Carlos. In June 2010. And _I'm _planning the wedding--_all_ of it. I'm paying. I'm deciding. It's my life. That's final. End of story."

My mother's mouth opened and I could see her getting ready for a protest. I held up my hand to silence her.

For once, miracle of miracles, it worked: Wonder Woman was on a roll now!

"I'm 26 years old, almost 27. I'm an intelligent woman who knows her own mind and heart. I'm not a lovesick teenager. And it's not just sex. I love Carlos with all of my heart. He's IT for me. And I'm IT for him. We spent almost the whole weekend together, and we did a lot of serious talking. I know _exactly_ what I'm getting into. I'm aware that you think I'm out of my mind. But you haven't met Carlos. When you _do_, you'll realize he's a wonderful man that any family would be proud to welcome into theirs. I hope you respect my decision. But _regardless_, I intend to marry him."

My father gave me a measured look. "I trust your judgment, Pumpkin. You love this guy, then I'm going to give you my blessing."

I smiled happily. My Dad was the best!

"Now can we eat? I'm hungry!" he made tracks for the table without even looking at the clock, and I realized to my amazement that it was exactly 6pm on the dot! You really could set your watch by my father's stomach.

My mother blinked, then her hands flew to her cheeks in distress. "The pot roast! I hope I didn't burn it!" She raced into the kitchen and I was left in the living room with my grandmother and Morelli. She made another move towards him, and he lit out of her way like a scalded cat.

"That woman is fuckin' _dangerous_!" he hissed as he got the hell out of her way.

I grinned at my grandmother, who'd managed to put the fear of God into one of Trenton's finest with just 2 fingers of her right hand. Registered sex offender indeed!

Later that evening, I reported the news by phone to Mary Lou, who'd been delighted to accept my invitation to become my Matron of Honor. "So, anyway, there we sit over dinner. My mother, still fuming because I made it totally and completely clear to her that _I_ was in the driving seat regarding all of the wedding arrangements."

"Steph, I still can't believe she invited Joe Morelli, of all people, over to dinner! You really think that was why she was calling you all weekend and telling you that there was an emergency and you had to get home?"

"Oh, totally," I nodded, convinced. "She was so pissed I passed on dinner last night, I should have known something was up. And my grandmother told me Mom'd originally had Morelli scheduled for dinner _last _night, but then she cancelled the invite when she found out I wasn't going to be there until tonight."

"Unbelievable! So do you think she finally got the message about you and Carlos?"

"Well, God knows, I delivered it clearly enough. And often enough. But this is Ellen Plum we're talking about here, Lou--so who the hell knows what sunk in?"

"How'd she take the news about your new job?"

"You had to see her face! There are no words to describe it. None. She's convinced I'm insane or something. It was bad enough that I work as a lingerie buyer, instead of at the button factory or the personal products plant, like '_normal people's daughters do_'. That's a direct quote by the way. Apparently having a daughter who fingers panties and bras all day is an embarrassment to her. Which I've always suspected, by the way. But she came right out and _said_ it this time, Lou."

"She _didn't_!"

"She _did_! I don't know what was more upsetting to her: the fact that I'm taking a job having no real experience in the design field, or the fact that I'm going to be _designing_ said embarrassing bras and panties instead of just ordering them! She's too much. Like I said: there are no words. By the time we got to dessert, I was ready to give up and run screaming into the night, swearing we weren't related!"

"And your father? How did he handle it?"

"Daddy didn't say too much. He never does. You know how he is. All he asked was if the guy had a good rep on the streets. And once I told him Books Designs is almost 40 years old, and I was getting everything in writing and having it reviewed by a lawyer, Daddy was fine with it."

"What about your grandmother?"

"She wanted to know if she could score some hot samples of the lingerie. And barring that, could she get a Senior Citizen discount? And she kept trying to grope Morelli under the table."

"_That_ must have been fun."

"Actually, it kind of was the best part of the evening," I grinned, tossing Rex a grape. "At least it wiped that smug look off his face."

"He always did think he was God's gift to women," Mary Lou reminded me. "And for a certain girl I knew, he _was_."

"I'm completely over him," I said airily. And I was. If I'd had any doubt at all that Carlos had made me a one-man woman--and I hadn't, really--that last doubt had been erased by this evening's _let's-invite-Joseph-for-dinner _exercise in futility. I wasn't as angry at him as I had been when I'd run over him with the Buick almost 9 years ago. But I also wasn't even a bit interested in ever meeting him again. Let alone starting a relationship with him. Which he'd made perfectly clear he would be quite open to, as he'd walked me out to my car when I made my escape from dinner.

"He actually asked you out to dinner? After you told him you were engaged?"

"You remember how he always was: very self-confident. And I suspect that I'm a challenge to him now that I'm with another guy. You know: can he get in my pants again 10 years later, or not? I turned him down flat, naturally."

"Naturally," Lou agreed.

"I told him that if he was really all that interested in dating, I could always hook him up with Grandma Mazur," I giggled.

"You didn't!"

"I did! The guy couldn't get to his car fast enough."

"Girl, your life puts mine to shame. The biggest thing on my schedule these days is Michelle's ballet lessons."

"And you think she'd like to be a flower girl?"

"Steph, she'd _love_ to! It'll be something exciting for her to look forward to. Besides, you know she adores you!"

"The feeling is mutual! I'm going to call Valerie tomorrow and ask her if her girls Angie and Mary Alice want to be flower girls, too. Tina suggested that we can have them each sprinkle a different color of rose petal down the aisle! Red, white and blue. I was looking online--doing research, you know--and they actually _do_ have blue roses now!"

"Omigod! I totally love it! I'm going to get on the net later tonight after Michelle goes to bed and start looking for the most fabulous gowns I can find! Maybe we can go out to the Mall Saturday afternoon and get a look at what's out there? It's just so exciting!"

"I know, I have all these bridal magazines in front of me, and I'm sketching what I'm looking for. No frou-frou princess gown this time! I want something form-fitting and strapless. Elegant yet sexy. I'll know it when I see it. And there's plenty of time to look!"

"Good, remember, Tina and I are taking you out Saturday night for your birthday dinner. We can just make a full day of it and hit the bridal salons so you can try gowns on--"

"Yes, yes! I can't wait! I'm going to have you and Tina as my Matron and Maid of Honor, and I've already invited Amanda, Melinda and Kelly to be bridesmaids. I'll invite Stella when she comes back from her honeymoon. And I guess I should invite Valerie to be one too, huh?"

"She's your sister," Mary Lou sighed, "You know her best, Steph. Do you think she's going to say yes?"

"Depends on her mood." It was true. My sister was very emotional these days, almost manic one moment and then deep in despair the next. I'd thought at first that she was pregnant again, but she'd snapped my head off when I suggested it. Then she'd hung up on me.

"Do you think she's having marriage problems with Steve?"

"That would be my guess, Lou. I know she thought he'd cheated on her in the past, although he denied it at the time. That could be what's going on now. It would definitely have her on the edge emotionally."

"You know, I always had this feeling about him," Mary Lou revealed. "I just think he's _icky_, even though he's always been very polite to me."

"It's not just you," I confessed, "I get this hinky feeling around him too. Almost like I want to take a bath after being in the same room with him."

"Like your cousin Vinnie the pervert!"

"Not quite _that_ bad," I laughed, "But yeah, kinda. To a different degree. I guess what I'm saying is that I don't trust Steve as far as I can throw him, Lou. But I have no proof he isn't an OK guy, so I just keep my mouth shut. And I thank God _I'm_ not married to him."

"Well, maybe Valerie will open up to you this time? If you invite her to be a bridesmaid, maybe you two can grow closer than you've been of late, and she'll actually tell you what's going on?"

"Not likely. Valerie is too into playing her perfect little role as an attorney's wife. She's all about _Steve says this, Steve says that_. The only way I even found out that she thought he was having an affair last year was because Grandma told me that she'd overheard Mom counseling her to try to be more sexy so as not to give him an excuse to go roaming around."

"Oh dear God: not the same advice she gave you concerning Dickie?"

"You got it. God forbid the Burg find out she has _two_ daughters who can't hold onto a husband! You know my mother: it's all about what the neighbors will say! 'Poor Ellen Plum, what did she do wrong raising her daughters?'"

"I'm sure Valerie's done her best to make it work, especially for the girls' sake. But there comes a time when enough is enough, Steph. If I ever found out for certain Lenny was cheating on me, that would be _it_! And nothing on God's Green Earth that my mother or his could say about it would keep me married to the bastard."

"I hear ya: especially these days with AIDS and other STDs. Anyway, I don't know for sure what the deal is with her, Lou. But I'll ask her if she wants to be in the bridal party. And the girls, too. I think Angie and Mary Alice will be excited, but as for what excites Valerie…who the hell knows?"

We chatted a bit more, and the discussion turned to my new job at Books Designs. I promised Mary Lou I'd call her the moment I got home from _Rosa's_ tomorrow evening, and then we called it a night.

Tomorrow was going to be a very important evening for me. And I couldn't wait to get the ball rolling!

True to plan, the last face I saw before I fell asleep was Carlos'. I held the framed photo of his smiling face in my hands, and my mind went back to thoughts of him. I said a few prayers that he was safe and told him that I loved him.

Then I crawled into bed and had the most deliciously sensual dreams of my future husband.

The countdown to April 6th, 2010 continued!


	53. Chapter 53

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 53

I spotted Mateo the minute I entered _Rosa's_, just after 5:15 the next evening. Rather than fight the rush-hour traffic home to Trenton and back again, I'd stayed in Newark after another brutal day at EE Martin. After leaving work at my usual quitting time of 4pm, I'd met Tina for a quick shoe-shopping excursion while I killed time waiting for my 6 o'clock dinner meeting with Dawson and his attorney, and Mateo, who was now mine.

I'd scored a few pair of really kick-ass FMPs at a deep discount, and my mood was consequently euphoric as a result. Well, because of that and the fact that I was out of EE Martin for the day, and one step closer to being an ex-employee. Damned bitch Mrs. Lebowitz had been hovering all day, waiting to swoop in if I put one toe wrong. God, I was so ready to quit that job. Which might be possible earlier than I'd anticipated, provided these contracts were all in order and I had a secure job to go to!

"Stephanie! Good to see you again!" Mateo's easy smile had me feeling relaxed, almost as if I'd known him for years. The fact that Carlos trusted him, automatically meant that _I_ trusted him, too.

"Hi, Mateo! Thank you so much for agreeing to meet me a bit early!" I returned his smile with one of my own, and got a handshake and then a brief hug afterwards. It seemed Mateo felt just as comfortable with me, no doubt for the same reason.

We'd agreed to meet before Dawson and his attorney Peter Swifford were to join us for dinner, in order that I could officially retain Mateo's services as my attorney. We were ushered to our table, and I was pleased to discover it was the same table that Carlos and I had shared on Sunday night.

"I thought you'd feel more comfortable at this table, Stephanie."

"I do, thanks. I take it as a really good omen for the evening's outcome!"

"Would you care for a drink while we wait for your guests?"

"Actually, I'd better not," I sighed, "I don't exactly hold my liquor well, truth be told. And I have to drive back to Chambersburg, so…."

"A soft drink, then?"

"Yeah, that's a good idea! A ginger ale, please," I gave the waiter my order, and Mateo ordered a beer for himself. As we waited for our drinks, we chatted easily and I told him all about driving Carlos to the airport Monday morning. "It's been _forever_ since then! I miss him so much! And I'm just getting started. Every evening I put another big red X on the calendar, and April 6th, 2010 is one day closer."

"At least you'll have something rewarding to occupy your time with while he's gone. You sound excited about your new business venture, Stephanie. I think you'll do well with it, too! Dawson Books has a great personal reputation, as I said when we spoke earlier. Very honest man, quite above board and dependable. And I did some checking around: his company has a long history in the lingerie industry, albeit these days they've fallen behind the times on designs. I take it that's why he's recruited you to come on-board."

"Exactly. We were at EE Martin Monday, and I was telling him we couldn't place an order with him because--well, because women don't wear that sort of thing anymore! The designs were very old-fashioned, unfortunately. And so then he allowed me to make some improvements to the lines of the sketches he'd brought in with him. He liked them--and we got to talking, and he offered me the job. After about 10 seconds of shock, I said yes! And here I am!"

"It took a lot of courage to jump into the venture," Mateo complemented me, "Carlos will be proud of you."

I smiled, "I think without him, I probably would have said no. But he gave me the confidence to make changes in my life. Unleash my inner Wonder Woman, as it were."

He laughed, "_Wonder Woman_, huh? You probably know Carlos' nickname is Superman!"

"Yeah, Wonder Woman and Superman getting together! We talked about that. It's another thing we connect on, Carlos and I. Wanting to live our lives our way, taking a different path than the norm. I guess it's uncanny how many things we bonded on so quickly."

The waiter returned with our drinks, and Mateo waved the menus away, saying that we were waiting for 2 guests. "I guess it goes without saying that Carlos took me by total surprise when he told me about you, Stephanie."

"I'm sure he did." I watched Mateo, knowing he was trying to figure out a way to say something without offending me. My spidey sense, I guess. "Look, _put it out there_, OK? Carlos loves you like a brother: he told me you two grew up together, you've been through a lot. I love him. I'm going to marry him. So comes June, 2010, you and I are practically going to be in-laws, Mateo. I don't beat around the bush where Carlos is concerned. Where _anything_ is concerned. Not anymore. I'm the new, improved Stephanie Plum. So I'm giving you a free pass to say what you're thinking without me getting offended in the least. _Go for it_!"

He blinked, digesting my words, and I saw him fighting a grin that he eventually allowed to shine out. "_Damn_, I can see another reason why he's so crazy about you, Stephanie! Carlos _hates _wasting time with polite bullshit! That's actually the kind of thing I can hear him saying, you know: 'put it out there'. It's one of the reasons I trust him so much. In everything. That and the fact that he's smart as a whip and has dead-on instincts where people are concerned. His bullshit threshold is nil. Carlos knows exactly what he wants in life and he goes for it, full-tilt. And he wants _you_."

"He _has_ me. He always will. Look, I just did 10 rounds last night with my mother over the fact that Carlos and I are engaged after only one weekend together. I'm guessing this is going to be more of the same? Or am I wrong?"

"Not exactly, Stephanie. I'm going to put it out there, as you invited me to. I did 10 rounds with Carlos already, asking him if he knew what the hell he was getting himself into with this whirl-wind of a relationship, especially with him then shipping out for 18 months. He told me you're both certain you're in love to last, that you've had the discussion ad-nauseum. That you've given him hope for the future. For that I can never thank you enough. I know about the 90% fatality rate of this mission--he told me. And I know he told you, too."

"He's going to be in the 10%, don't doubt him, Mateo. I don't."

"I think so, too. Especially because he has you waiting for him at the end of it. I'm not against you two getting married. Don't misunderstand, please! Because I've never seen Carlos happier, not in all the years I've known him. And that's because of _you_, Stephanie. He's my brother, in every way that matters. And what makes _him _happy, makes _me_ happy. I'm on your side. Both of you. Please believe that. But having said that, I'm going to warn you that it's going to be a tough 18 months without him. You're a beautiful woman. You're going to have a lot of opportunities to date---"

"I get it! I see where you're going with this. Carlos gave me the same speech, actually. Along with a free pass to find another man while he was gone. I'm telling you the same thing I told him: I don't _want _another man. I want _Carlos_. And I'm willing to wait for him. I appreciate what you said, but honestly, Mateo: nothing is going to change my mind. I know 18 months is a hell of a long time to wait for someone, even if you had more time than a weekend to get to know a person before he left. But it's not the _quantity_ of the time, it's the _quality_. And Carlos and I had quality time together this weekend. We've spend more time talking--I mean, _really _talking--than in all of the relationships either one of us have had in the past, all rolled into one. I know him. He knows me. Nothing is going to change for either of us in 18 months."

"I'm glad to hear that, Stephanie. And for the record--I believe you. I think you're both a damned good match up. But, did I miss the June 2010 wedding date? Because I'm sure that Carlos never men---"

"Carlos told me to plan our wedding however I wanted to. I suspect that was his way of giving me something to distract me with while he was gone. He told me that, big or small, I was to plan my dream wedding. And I picked _June_, because I've always wanted to be a June bride. Plus, I figured that since Carlos gets back April 6th, he'd need some time to de-stress and connect with his family and friends first. And he'd have time to get involved with the planning, too: draw up the invitations, name his Best Man and groomsmen, plan the honeymoon---"

"He actually told me that he wanted to marry you on the day he got back home. April 6th, 2010. Did you know that?"

"He's not getting away with a quickie wedding," I laughed, "Besides, we're spending the first week he's back locked in room 407 of the Hilton: he already made the reservations."

"I know. Something about _An Affair To Remember_?"

"He told you all that?"

"He told me, all right. And he told me about the need for having a back-up plan, just in case something went wrong! So I'm supposed to reschedule another hotel if the Hilton closes between now and then--"

I burst out laughing. "_Omigod! _Did he give you the reservation number?"

"He did--yes, of course he did! Along with his American Express card number and urgent instructions to make sure you two have reservations for room 407 for the week he comes back, no matter which hotel it has to be changed to. But somehow, I don't think the Hilton is going belly-up before he gets back."

"I hope not: I kinda like that hotel. We have a lot of great memories built there!"

"You said you went 10 rounds last night. Your mother's giving you grief about Carlos?"

"My mother actually had a matrimonial candidate ready and waiting for me for dinner last night, believe it or not! No, I wasn't interested."

"I didn't mean to offend you with that comment--"

"No offense taken, Mateo. Honestly. But things are kind of strained between my mother and me right now. _Especially_ now, I mean. Things are _usually_ strained between my mother and me, wedding or not. Another thing Carlos and I bonded on."

"He told you about his father, I know. It's a shame, but Carlos deals with it very well."

I nodded, "But it still _hurts_ him. I know: I go through the same thing with my mother. My sister can do no wrong, and I can do no right. Carlos told me about his brother, and I told him about my perfect sister St. Valerie. And we did more bonding."

"Yeah, I get it."

"Until you've lived your whole life with it, you _can't_ really get it, though. It's a special kind of pain, Mateo. Knowing that your own parent thinks you're not good enough. Always coming in second to someone else, in every single contest there is. Knowing you always will, no matter what. Because you have the unmitigated gall not to live your life the way your parent thinks you should."

"I'm sorry, Stephanie."

"Me, too. Last night though, that was _not_ pretty. _At all. _I told her about the engagement, and instead of being happy for me, she tried to pawn me off on a Burg guy--Chambersburg, I mean--instead. And not just _any _guy, mind you: this guy and I had an unhappy history together. He was my first--and it wasn't good, not in the least. Carlos knows the full story, by the way. Any _normal_ mother wouldn't let this guy within 20 feet of their daughter--but _mine_? No, she can't push us close enough. Sorry, I'm more than a bit bitter about it."

"I'm thinking you stood up to her, and there was a nasty argument?"

"_Kinda. _Let's just say, I'm not convinced she won't actively try to sabotage my wedding plans. Carlos is Cuban-American, from outside of the Burg. My mother prefers a 100% Italian, home-grown neighborhood guy, if you get the picture. _Any_ 100% Italian home grown Burg guy will do."

"Got it."

"I was originally planning on getting married in my home parish of St. Stephen's. I was going to call the church today and see if I could book a date in mid-June. But after last night's battle, I started to seriously rethink things. If she can easily gum up the works--and in the Burg, she _can_--then she'll be taking over. No matter how many times I put my foot down and try to stop her. And my wedding--mine and Carlos'--will suddenly be unrecognizable to either him or me. It'll be an _Ellen Plum Musical Extravaganza_. With the same nightmarish consequences as my first monstrosity. My first wedding, I mean: to Dickie Orr. The bastard who cheated on me like 5 minutes into the marriage. That was another Ellen Plum production: groom choice and all. I'm not risking it again."

"What's the alternative, Stephanie?"

"Well, see that's where Wonder Woman gets _inventive_," I grinned, winning a smile in return. Mateo was starting to enjoy this, I could tell. "If I move the wedding completely _out _of the Burg, she loses her big advantage! No calling Father Cowen at St. Stephen's behind my back and changing the arrangements I've already made. No booking the local VFW hall for another date and changing the decorations I already picked out. No asking Mrs. Piccolomini's sister Isabella to cater 100% Italian food, after I specifically told her I wanted Cuban food so Carlos would feel at home."

"So where are you thinking of moving the wedding?"

"Where else? _Newark! _I want to have the reception here at _Rosa's_! I want to talk to Papa and Alejandro about it, that's one of the reasons I suggested we meet here tonight!"

Mateo started to choke on his beer suddenly.

"Are you OK?"

"Fine. Fine." He recovered quickly, "Just went down the wrong pipe, that's all. Did you say, you wanted to have the reception here at _Rosa's_?"

"Absolutely! Carlos would _love_ it! It's going to be a surprise!"

"It will be _that_, all right," Mateo agreed. "But I don't know if that's really the best---"

"Stephanie!" Dawson and his attorney made his way through the maze of tables. "There you are! You're looking well, my dear!"

We exchanged pleasantries, and within a matter of minutes the previously-acquainted Mateo and Peter began doing their attorney-thing as Dawson and I watched anxiously. I think we were both eager to get the formalities out of the way so we could begin the new business relationship we'd both decided to commit to.

"These terms are quite generous," Mateo informed me, "_Extremely _generous, in fact."

"I think Stephanie's worth every penny," Dawson replied, "I want her on-board with me; and whatever it takes, I'm willing to do, in order to make that happen."

"My client thinks highly of your design skills, Miss Plum," smiled Swifford.

"Please: call me Stephanie. I'm sure this is going to work out for both of us, Dawson. I had some more ideas, I just can't wait to put them down on paper!"

"Right now, I'd prefer that you put your _signature_ down first, so we can officially launch this venture," Dawson smiled.

"There's nothing I'd rather do more," I admitted, "EE Martin is not a very pleasant place to work these days, trust me when I say that."

And it _wasn't_. Not only because of that witch Mrs. Lebowitz hounding me from 8-4, Monday through Friday, but also because of some unexplainable something else that my spidey-sense had been picking up on for the last couple of weeks. Tina had told me off-the-record that Edward Martin, III, the partner for whom she worked, had been closeted for hours at a time with his attorney in the past few days. And he'd had a steady stream of meetings with his accountant, as well. Tina and I were wondering if the bad economy would catch up to the company before long. Ever-prepared, Tina already had her resume updated and ready for printing, should things go poorly and EE Martin start laying off long-time employees.

"Well, Stephanie," Mateo handed me the contracts finally, "If you're really that anxious to leave EE Martin, I'm going to recommend that you sign on the dotted line. Because this gives you not only a job, it gives you a great career-path. And the financial rewards are substantial."

"I can sign?" I said, excitedly, "It's good?"

"You can sign," Mateo smiled, "It's not only good, it's _fantastic_! Congratulations! Best of luck on your new career!"

"Woo hoo!" I whooped, grabbing the pen and signing the contracts with a flourish. "I can't wait to give my 2 weeks notice!"

"I can't wait until you do," Dawson signed immediately after I did. "In fact, I'm hoping you can get out sooner than 2 weeks."

"It might be possible," I replied, "I have 3 weeks of vacation coming to me." I looked over at Mateo, "Legally, can I go in tomorrow and give my notice, then take my vacation time and walk out for good right then and there?"

"They'd probably prefer for you to do just that," Mateo said, as Swifford and Dawson both nodded agreement. "In fact, Stephanie, I wouldn't be at all surprised if they require you to clear out your desk and leave the minute you officially file your notice of intent to leave. You're in a position as a buyer to have proprietary information concerning EE Martin. You're leaving to seek work at a company that might make use of that information, should you stay that extra 2 weeks."

"I never thought of that," I admitted. All I'd thought of was how much I wanted out of EE Martin! "So they'd really give me the boot, huh?"

"Probably. Not that they'd be _firing_ you, you understand. _You'd _still be the one resigning. And don't worry: they'd still be obligated to pay you for your vacation time, since it's October. But just be prepared: they'll probably work out an arrangement for you to leave immediately once you hand in your notice. And since that seems to be your choice anyway--"

"It sure is! I'll hand in my notice tomorrow, then! _Omigod!_ I can't wait to see Mrs. Lebowitz' face," I grinned. "Think Wicked Witch of the West. Then think 100 times bitchier. That's Mrs. Lebowitz."

All three men nodded solemnly. Then Books admitted, "She does seem a most _odious_ woman! I can't imagine having to work for her, day in and day out."

"She's a complete and total _bitch_." I smiled. "But she's not _my _problem anymore, thank God. I'm going to have a good time saying good-bye to her, I can promise you that!"

"You'll let me know when you're prepared to start?" Dawson asked, "I gather you want to take at least some of that 3 weeks of vacation before you begin with us?"

"Just a week of it," I decided, "I'm going to start wedding planning a bit. Then really fun part: wedding dress shopping!"

"Ah, yes! I remember! Your upcoming wedding to your young man in the Army," Dawson nodded, "I understand perfectly, Stephanie. When is the wedding scheduled for?"

"Not until June 2010, unfortunately," I sighed, "But I suggested we meet at _Rosa's_ today because I want to have the reception here. The food is delicious, and this is Carlos' favorite restaurant. Right, Mateo?"

Mateo looked at me with a strange expression on his face.

"_Wonderful!_ Yes, I've always enjoyed eating here," Dawson continued, and Mateo was saved from responding.

"The food is very good," Peter Swifford agreed, "My niece had her wedding reception here two years ago. _June_, huh? You should think about having it in the garden area behind the restaurant. They have a terrace and the decorations are quite lovely on a summer evening."

"I'm going to talk to Papa about it after we finish here," I smiled, "Where _is_ he, anyway? I thought he'd be around--"

"_Papa_?" Peter looked confused.

"You know! Papa! The owner!"

Now he looked even _more_ confused. "You mean Mr. M---"

"_Papa!_" Mateo interrupted heartily, giving Swifford an indefinable look. "We all call him _Papa_, Peter. _Everyone_ calls him Papa. _Remember?_"

There was a long moment of silence.

"Oh….oh! OH! _Papa_!" Swifford nodded enthusiastically, his eyes holding Mateo's for a moment longer. "_That _Papa! Silly me! Of course! You want to talk to Papa about the arrangements. Naturally."

I grinned happily, "Yeah. Carlos and I were here Sunday night and he introduced me to Papa, the owner, and to Alejandro, the chef. And since Carlos had to go on a tour of duty for 18 months, I thought I'd surprise him by making the arrangements for our wedding reception to be here at his favorite restaurant!"

Mateo gave me a soft smile, "You know what, Stephanie? I can guarantee you that Carlos is going to be _beyond_ surprised!"

"Yeah, that's what _I _thought!" I was so proud of myself!

The waiter came back with our appetizers, and before long we were digging in enthusiastically.

We were making small talk, and waiting for our entrees when Papa emerged from the kitchen, clad in a chef's uniform, and made a bee-line for our table.

"Estefanía! My dear, how lovely you look tonight! I have been so busy tonight--Alejandro is out with a stomach flu--and I am once again in my beloved kitchen!" Papa was beaming ear-to-ear, so I suspected he was more than pleased to be a chef again.

He took my hand and kissed it with a huge flourish, and I felt myself blushing.

"I was wondering where you were, Papa! I was hoping to have a few minutes of your time after we conclude our business meeting here. But if you are busy tonight, may I make an appointment to come back?"

"Nonsense! There is _always_ time for me to speak with the lovely Estefanía!" Papa assured me. "The food is to everyone's satisfaction tonight?"

"It's excellent," Dawson assured him.

"Delicious," Peter agreed.

"Papa, you're a master in the kitchen, as always," Mateo said, smiling. "So Alejandro has caught the bug from the children?"

"Unfortunately," Papa agreed, sighing, "You understand how it is. They are of an age that they pick up sickness at school and it spreads quickly throughout the house. But regardless: I have an iron constitution! Nothing gets _me_ down! You have ordered what tonight, my Estefanía?"

"I ordered the _Paella Valenciana_, Papa. The dish Carlos ordered Sunday night," I smiled, "I know it is his favorite, and I'm trying it because I want to be able to describe it to my friends."

"It is saffron rice, garnished with shrimp, mussels, scallops, Chorizo sausage and chicken, with sweet peas and roasted peppers." Papa nodded to the people at the next table over, and continued to beam at me. "Did you have the _Papas Rellenas _and the _Empanadas_, as well? Those were for you, yes?"

"Naturally," I laughed, "I had lovely dreams of them Sunday night."

"You would not know it to look at her lovely figure, but my Estefanía loves her food!" Papa laughed.

I grinned. "I do, indeed! And _Rosa's_ is the best place to eat! That's why I am hoping you will have room for me in June, 2010!"

Papa looked around, puzzled. Mateo shrugged, then looked at me.

"Carlos and I are getting married then, and we'd like to have the reception here. If you can fit us in!"

For a moment, I thought Papa was going to pass out: he was completely shell-shocked. I saw him look over at Mateo, who only nodded. Then Papa looked again at me. "Carlos--Carlos wants this?"

"He proposed to me on Sunday evening, officially," I smiled, showing Papa my ring. "Isn't it lovely? He picked it out himself. It's the most beautiful ring in the world!"

"Congratulations, my child! Carlos is a very lucky man to have won the heart of a woman so beautiful, and so loving!" Papa took my hand and again gave me a courtly kiss. "I know you will both be very happy! You have my best wishes, both of you! And Alejandro's too--I will tell him the happy news tonight. I'm sure he joins in sending felicitations!"

"Thank you, Papa! But I feel _I_ am the lucky one: Carlos is a wonderful man. He is a man of honor, and bravery, and capable of such tenderness. And he is so romantic!"

"Stephanie is _surprising_ Carlos with the reception here, Papa." Mateo said quietly. "He left her to plan all the arrangements for their wedding. And Stephanie has chosen _Rosa's_ for their reception so that Carlos feels at home."

"I am _honored_ that you have given us your trust, Estefanía! Name the date, and _Rosa's_ is at your command!"

"I haven't got a date booked with the church yet," I confided, "But mid-June 2010 is the time-frame we are looking at. I wanted to sit down with you and Alejandro and talk about the menu and get your suggestions on the dishes to serve our guests. I want all of Carlos' favorite foods, naturally! And I want to book the band and the singers from Sunday night, if that's possible?"

"They are _yours_, Estefanía! You have my word. Give me the date once you know it, and the arrangements are as good as made. I _myself_ will take charge of helping you to plan this great celebration! Guillermo, our event manager, will not be needed!"

"Thank you, Papa! You are very kind!" I was ecstatic: things were falling into place at a dizzyingly fast pace. "This is so beyond fantastic! The only thing that would be better would be having Carlos here with me."

"Then you would not be waiting until June 2010," Mateo said, giving Papa a look that I couldn't quite define.

"Estefanía?" Papa looked over at me quizzically. "This is true?"

"Carlos wanted to get married immediately," I confessed. "He told me the decision for a wedding, big or small, was mine."

"Ah, every girl dreams of growing up and having a big wedding!" Papa smiled.

"It's not that, exactly," I revealed, "I had a big wedding the first time around."

Papa's face froze. "What? You have married before? In the Catholic church?"

"Yes. For all of about 5 minutes: he cheated on me," I said quietly, "It was a colossal mistake. I should never have married him, but my mother--well, let's just say that he was someone she thought was a good match for me. And I was naïve enough to marry him. The ink hadn't dried on the marriage license before I found him cheating on me in my own home, and I left him."

"The man was a fool." Papa looked over at Mateo. "There was an annulment, yes?"

"No, a divorce," I sighed. "But you know what?" I said, an idea forming, "_You're right! _That marriage should never have happened! I'm going to look into getting an annulment! If I can, that is. I'll have to check out the rules and regulations."

Papa's face brightened instantly, "Mateo will help you. Yes?"

Mateo nodded, "If Stephanie wishes. Of course."

"Yes, I definitely _do _wish," I decided. "There's plenty of time to get it done. And the more I think about it, the more I'm certain there are grounds to get it done. I would like Carlos to be my first and only husband in the church's eyes. Yes, _thank you_, Papa! I'm going to pursue an annulment!"

"We know people--_important people_--in the church." Papa said authoritatively. "And Mateo, he is an excellent attorney. This what-do-you-call-it '5 minute marriage'? _Poof! _The papers will be filed and it will never have happened!"

"Do you think your ex-husband will argue the motion?" Mateo asked.

"Dickie? Are you kidding? No, I think he'll be fine with it. I didn't take any alimony from him. I just wanted out of the marriage. I'm pretty certain he won't stand in the way of an annulment." And I was: Dickie was all about avoiding conflict. Plus it was in his best interests, too: he would be free to marry some poor sucker in the future without a divorce decree on his resume.

"_Dickie? _This is his name?" Papa spoke it with extreme distaste. "What kind of grown man calls himself _Dickie_?"

I almost laughed: he sounded almost exactly like Carlos!

"Dickie Orr." I saw the name register with Peter Swifford. "You have the misfortune of knowing him, I see."

"He doesn't have a great reputation for honesty, I'm afraid."

"You're telling me! _I'm _the one he cheated on!"

"This man is a _cad_! Mateo will make the arrangements to push the annulment through as soon as possible, Estefanía! Do not spend a moment's more worry on the matter!" Papa gave a look to Mateo, who nodded. "It will be handled quickly, with all discretion."

"Absolutely. In the meantime--" Mateo checked his watch, with a slight smile. "I suspect Papa has forgotten that there is no Alejandro slaving away in the kitchen tonight."

Papa's expressive eyes suddenly registered that fact, and he gave a muffled groan. "Indeed! Alas, I cannot stay and converse with my lovely Estefanía any longer! My customers are hungry, and without me in the kitchen, they will _starve_! That can't be allowed to happen at _Rosa's_! Enjoy your dinner, please. And for your sake, my lovely Estefanía, I shall send out an extra large portion of dessert!" He gave me a quick wink, and quickly hustled back to the kitchen.

Several hours later, I was curled up on my sofa on the phone with Mary Lou, as promised, giving my friend a complete recap of the evening's events.

"So anyway, I talked to Mateo about it in more detail after dinner, and he tells me there are a few grounds I can use for the annulment! And it's a good thing Papa suggested it, Lou. Or else I'd have been in for a nasty surprise when I called the rectory and tried to book a date for the wedding!"

It honestly had never occurred to me that I'd need my marriage to Dickie the Prick to be annulled before I could be married in the church again. OK, so whip me with a wet noodle, and get it done with, why don't you? I'm officially an idiot! But I was pleading temporary insanity: I'd been on a whirlwind since I'd met Carlos Friday night, and my feet were still not touching the ground.

"OMIGOD! You're right! Steph, I totally should have thought of it!" Mary Lou groaned, "But it's do-able, he says? The annulment, I mean?"

"Totally do-able! He listed the grounds, and one of them is fraud--which fits because Dickie had the ongoing affair with Joyce all the way up to and into the marriage. And I have even _better_ grounds, because remember Dickie had the vasectomy without telling me! Which frankly I want to give him a medal for, since I can't imagine anything that would have been worse than having Dickie's kids."

"Asshole."

"Amen."

"So you're filing the papers? What does your mother think?"

"Who gives a flying furry fart what she thinks about it? Not _moi, _for damned sure!"

Mary Lou started laughing, and I joined her. After the Morelli incident last night, my mother was officially on my shit list.

"Speaking of The Prick, I heard from Lenny that Dickie's all banged up, looking like he got run over by not one, but _two _freight trains!"

"You're kidding? What happened? Did Lenny hear?" This was big news!

"He tripped down the stairs--or so Dickie told Liz, the admitting nurse at County General's ER. You know Liz, right? She's Betty Ann Morinski's youngest daughter. She's dating Lenny's friend Ben McCartney. Anyhow, Lenny said Dickie claims he missed the first step and went down about 8 stairs and slammed into the wall face-first."

"Interesting. Does she buy it?"

"Nope. Not at all!Liz told Ben, who told Lenny, that she's seen a _lot _of fist fights, and trust her, this was definitely a fist fight! And Dickie got the worst of it by a country mile. She said he was jacked up pretty good, too. He's on crutches, with a broken leg, a sprained wrist and two black eyes, as well as numerous bruises. He's in a world of hurt, for sure."

"Probably met a jealous husband in a dark alley. Want to bet?"

"No doubt about it. Can't think of anyone who deserves a beating more than Dickie, I gotta tell you."

"You and me both, Lou. I have to admit, I don't feel one bit sorry for him, though."

"Me, either. I'd have liked to land a few punches in there, myself!"

"I know damned well _I_ would. So would Carlos, on my behalf. Remember I told you that I gave him the _real_ story on what Dickie tried to do to me? He's just damned good and lucky that _Carlos_ didn't run into him, or he'd be flat on his back still. Or worse."

"Maybe it will teach him a good lesson. So, tell me: are you going to quit your job tomorrow, for sure?"

"You better believe I am. Just wait till I tell you my plan, Lou!"

And I did just that, a few moments later. In detail. I was happy as can be, having searched on the internet for a big surprise for Mrs. Lebowitz tomorrow, and coming up with that special something that would make my resignation one for the ages.

"You _aren't_!" Mary Lou was giggling so hard I thought she was going to pee her pants.

"I _am_. Trust me, the look on that bitch's face is going to be _priceless_! Just ask Tina: she's going to be my eyewitness. Among others."

"OMIGOD! You are too much, girl!"

"Don't mess with me, I tell you! Especially when I have a better job offer and all the power is in _my _hands now! She soooooooo has this coming!"

"I agree! I don't suppose I could come to visit you tomorrow and be there to see this big moment?" Her voice was wistful.

"You know what, Lou? _Why not? _Show up at the front desk tomorrow at 10am and tell them you have to speak to me, that it's an emergency! They'll call my cubicle and I'll tell them to send you in. And that'll guarantee the Wicked Witch will descend on me and then I'll press the button and start the show. How's that?"

"You're my hero, Steph."

"That's what Tina told me when I gave her my news."

I grinned. Now I had _two_ people living vicariously through me! _It totally rocked to be Stephanie Plum!_


	54. Chapter 54

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 54

_Ricardo's POV_

I had forgotten how much that I enjoyed running my kitchen. With my son Alejandro suddenly taken ill with a stomach virus, I was again in my element! Although I was more than busy cooking the dinner service, I frequently found myself stealing glances out into the dining room, anxious to make the opportunity to again converse with Carlos's lovely Estefanía. Mateo had called to tell me that she had hired him as her attorney for a new business venture she was undertaking. Naturally, I was more than delighted to find that she had suggested that the meeting take place at _Rosa's_!

Finally, I found an opening to dart outside to the dining room for a few minutes, and I hustled to their table. Whether by chance or design, I found Estefanía and her party--including my nephew--at the very same table that she and my son had shared two evenings ago. When she spotted me, Estefanía gave me the loveliest of smiles, and I found myself once again under her potent spell. My younger son had done well to find this woman: she was lovely, yes; but there was much more to her. She had an indescribable sparkle to her, an effervescence that would last far longer than physical beauty ever could. Estefanía glowed. Yes, that was the word. She _glowed_.

I could not help but smile back at her. "Estefanía! My dear, how lovely you look tonight! I have been so busy tonight--Alejandro is out with a stomach flu--and I am once again in my beloved kitchen!" I took her hand in mine and gave it a courtly kiss, winning a blush from her in return.

"I was wondering where you were, Papa! I was hoping to have a few minutes of your time after we conclude our business meeting here. But if you are busy tonight, may I make an appointment to come back?"

"Nonsense! There is _always _time for me to speak with the lovely Estefanía! The food is to everyone's satisfaction tonight?"

"It's excellent," the older gentleman to Estefanía's left assured me.

"Delicious," the other agreed.

"Papa, you're a master in the kitchen, as always," Mateo complementing me. "So Alejandro has caught the bug from the children?"

"Unfortunately. You understand how it is. They are of an age that they pick up sickness at school and it spreads quickly throughout the house. But regardless: I have an iron constitution! Nothing gets _me_ down!" And, thankfully, it was true. I had always been blessed with good health.

As we made polite conversation, I surreptitiously examined the men who dined with Estefanía, and thought both looked somewhat familiar. They had dined at _Rosa's _previously, I was almost certain. They seemed respectable sorts. I admit that I was relieved to discover that both were older: no competition for Carlos in Estefanía's life with these two! Good. Not that _she _would be looking at anyone but Carlos. No, I had seen her face as she danced and dined with my son. She was just as deeply in love with Carlos as he was with her. But countless other men would no doubt fall under her spell and try to--how did they say it these days?--to _hook up _with her. Best this business venture be with a man old enough to be her grandfather!

"You have ordered what tonight, my Estefanía?" I smiled indulgently at her.

"I ordered the _Paella Valenciana_, Papa. The dish Carlos ordered Sunday night. I know it is his favorite, and I'm trying it because I want to be able to describe it to my friends."

"It is saffron rice, garnished with shrimp, mussels, scallops, Chorizo sausage and chicken, with sweet peas and roasted peppers." Catching the eye of the Martinez table nearby, I gave the elderly couple a smile and a nod of recognition. Like clockwork, every Tuesday evening they were in here for dinner; they always ordered the same thing. I looked back at Estefanía. "Did you have the _Papas Rellenas_ and the _Empanadas_, as well?" I remembered the table's order. "Those were for you, yes?"

"Naturally. I had lovely dreams of them Sunday night." Her laughter was like music; I could see how my taciturn son Carlos had been smitten so quickly and so deeply by this woman! Indeed, how could he not be?

"You would not know it to look at her lovely figure, but my Estefanía loves her food!" I teased, laughing.

"I do, indeed!" Her smile grew wider, "And _Rosa's_ is the best place to eat! That's why I am hoping you will have room for me in June, 2010!"

_June 2010? _What was this date? Puzzled, I looked at Mateo for help. He shrugged, then looked at Estefanía, who elaborated further.

"Carlos and I are getting married then, and we'd like to have the reception here. If you can fit us in!"

Shocked, I stood there completely speechless. There were no words I could find for stunning news such as this! Carlos had officially proposed to her? Then left his betrothed for 18 months, perhaps never to return to her again? _90% fatality on this mission. _I remembered his words vividly. Dios, they haunted my nightmares! It was so unlike my controlled iron-willed son: somehow, I would have bet that he would have insisted they wait until his return from war before he made a formal commitment to her. For _her_ sake, not for his own. _He'd actually proposed? _Incredulous, I looked over to Mateo, who nodded in confirmation.

"Carlos--Carlos wants this?" I asked Estefanía, still slowly processing this series of astonishing developments.

Somehow, I could not imagine Carlos actually choosing _Rosa's_ at which to hold his wedding celebration! That I would have done my best to insist on, naturally: I was his father; Alejandro was his brother. _Rosa's _was the family's restaurant, after all. But Carlos rarely came to _Rosa's_ of his own volition, as I was too well aware. Dios! I'd had to practically twist his wrist to coerce him here on Sunday night.

Carlos _wanted _his wedding reception to be held at _Rosa's_?

But then, this meant that, just perhaps, my son was not entirely lost to me! Perhaps I had not pushed him away so completely and so irrevocably that we could not one day find our way back together, as I so much wanted us to!

"He proposed to me on Sunday evening, officially," she smiled, showing me her engagement ring. "Isn't it lovely? He picked it out himself. It's the most beautiful ring in the world!"

"Congratulations, my child! Carlos is a very lucky man to have won the heart of a woman so beautiful, and so loving!" _Indeed he was! _Taking her hand, I gave her another courtly kiss. "I know you will both be very happy! You have my best wishes, both of you! And Alejandro's too--I will tell him the happy news tonight. I'm sure he joins in sending felicitations!"

I could not wait to rouse my elder son out of his sickbed and give him the news! But first I had to question Mateo further, once Estefanía left for the evening. I knew Mateo was like a brother to Carlos; and a brother knew secrets. Mateo would be reluctant to share them, but I would _insist_. I would press for details!

Smiling, Estefanía continued, "Thank you, Papa! But I feel _I _am the lucky one: Carlos is a wonderful man. He is a man of honor, and bravery, and capable of such tenderness. And he is so romantic!"

A man of honor? That much I certainly hoped was true: I did not know my son as well as I wanted to. Bravery? Well, Carlos was in the Army, although I had no idea what the hell he did other than go away for months at a time on top-secret missions he would never discuss. It was to be hoped he was brave: I supposed he would have to be, to do that dangerous job. But tender? Romantic? _Carlos? _Still…..he had obviously won her heart completely! Estefanía was a lovely woman who deserved a man who treated her well. It was to be hoped that my son was--or could become--such a man.

"Stephanie is _surprising_ Carlos with the reception here, Papa. He left her to plan all the arrangements for their wedding. And Stephanie has chosen _Rosa's _for their reception so that Carlos feels at home." Mateo met my eye carefully as he delivered the telling words.

Ah! Yes! Now at last I finally understood! _Rosa's_ was not _Carlos' _choice, at all! It was _Estefanía's_! No doubt because he took her here on Sunday night, and she erroneously assumed that it was his favorite restaurant. I felt sharp disappointment deep inside, but rallied.

Regardless of how the choice was made--or by whom--I would take the unexpected and valuable gift that God had given me, and make the most of it. I would do all I could to make certain that my son and his woman had a lovely and memorable wedding! Especially since I was _certain _now that his finances as a soldier were not the best. After all, he had not even been able to afford to give his betrothed a solitaire diamond ring. Instead, only a small cluster of opals adorned the engagement ring that announced their upcoming marriage. Carlos was a proud man, that must have shamed him! But to a woman in love, it was the most beautiful ring in the world. It was proof above all else that Estefanía was not a greedy or materialistic woman. She gained even more respect in my eyes.

"I am _honored_ that you have given us your trust, Estefanía! Name the date, and _Rosa's_ is at your command!" I decided that I would close the restaurant for the day to all other patrons, and we would celebrate my younger son's nuptials to this lovely woman with a grand and glorious gala! Whatever she wished for their special day, it would be my pleasure to provide to them!

"I haven't got a date booked with the church yet. But mid-June 2010 is the time-frame we are looking at. I wanted to sit down with you and Alejandro and talk about the menu and get your suggestions on the dishes to serve our guests. I want all of Carlos' favorite foods, naturally! And I want to book the band and the singers from Sunday night, if that's possible?"

Ah of course! I remembered vividly what a splendid couple they made on the dance floor. My son moved with a Latin grace that made me proud. "They are _yours_, Estefanía! You have my word. Give me the date once you know it, and the arrangements are as good as made. I _myself_ will take charge of helping you to plan this great celebration! Guillermo, our event manager, will not be needed!"

Excellent! I would work closely with my future daughter-in-law for _many_ reasons. For one, I would do my best to see that every wish of hers was met for her wedding celebration. She had made my son a very happy man; for that I could not possibly thank her enough. Secondly, I hoped to get to know my younger son through her eyes. Carlos and I had drifted so far apart over the years, through my fault as well as his: we both shared stubbornness as a character trait.

This wedding was an opportunity for me to try my best to change the past! To build a future that would be different, if the Almighty were benevolent enough to deliver Carlos home safely from his dangerous mission. If not….well, then, Estefanía and the Manoso family would need each other in _other_ ways. But I refused to think of that damned 90% ratio at a time like this! My son would be in the 10%. My Carlos would _live_!

"Thank you, Papa! You are very kind! This is so beyond fantastic!" Estefanía exclaimed happily. "The only thing that would be better would be having Carlos here with me."

"Then you would not be waiting until June 2010," Mateo pointed out to her, giving me a telling look.

"Estefanía?" I looked over at her expectantly. "This is true?"

"Carlos wanted to get married immediately," she revealed. "He told me the decision for a wedding, big or small, was mine."

Trust my son to want to elope to Las Vegas or Atlantic City! Thank God, Estefanía had held the final decision! "Ah, every girl dreams of growing up and having a big wedding!" I agreed, smiling. It had been so for all four of my daughters.

"It's not that, exactly. I had a big wedding the first time around," she confided.

I almost fell over with shock. This dreadful news I had not heard before from Carlos! "What? You have married before? In the Catholic church?" It could not be possible!

Estefanía continued, unaware of my horror. "Yes. For all of about 5 minutes: he cheated on me. It was a colossal mistake. I should never have married him, but my mother--well, let's just say that he was someone she thought was a good match for me. And I was naïve enough to marry him. The ink hadn't dried on the marriage license before I found him cheating on me in my own home, and I left him."

"The man was a fool." To cheat on a lovely woman like Estefanía, he had to be! Still reeling from the unhappy news of her previous marriage, I looked at Mateo, seeking reassurance that a church wedding was still possible. It was inconceivable that Carlos and Estefanía would not be able to have their union blessed by the church! "There was an annulment, yes?" I asked her.

"No, a divorce." She paused for a moment, then brightened, "But you know what? _You're right! _That marriage should never have happened! I'm going to look into getting an annulment! If I can, that is. I'll have to check out the rules and regulations."

_All was saved, thank the merciful Lord! _An annulment would ensure that the wedding would be possible in the church. I beamed again, looking over at my nephew, "Mateo will help you. Yes?" It was not a question, and he knew it.

Mateo nodded, "If Stephanie wishes. Of course."

"Yes, I definitely _do_ wish," she confirmed. "There's plenty of time to get it done. And the more I think about it, the more I'm certain there are grounds to get it done. I would like Carlos to be my first and only husband in the church's eyes. Yes, _thank you_, Papa! I'm going to pursue an annulment!"

"We know people--_important people_--in the church." I assured her. And we did: one of Teresa's relatives was a high ranking official in the church, and I knew he would help us to navigate the waters leading to the annulment. "And Mateo, he is an excellent attorney. This what-do-you-call-it '5 minute marriage'? _Poof! _The papers will be filed and it will never have happened!" The annulment was--how do you say it?--_in the bag! _I would make this so!

"Do you think your ex-husband will argue the motion?" Mateo questioned her.

"Dickie? Are you kidding? No, I think he'll be fine with it. I didn't take any alimony from him. I just wanted out of the marriage. I'm pretty certain he won't stand in the way of an annulment."

"_Dickie? _This is his name?" _Ridiculous! _A man like that was not masculine enough for the lovely Estefanía! "What kind of grown man calls himself _Dickie_?" I looked around questioning the men at the table. No one had an answer for me. Why? Because there was no answer possible! _Dickie_, indeed! _Bah!_

"Dickie Orr." She looked over at one of her companions, who had given an almost imperceptible nod. "You have the misfortune of knowing him, I see."

"He doesn't have a great reputation for honesty, I'm afraid," the man admitted.

"You're telling me! _I'm_ the one he cheated on!" she sighed, unhappily.

"This man is a _cad_!" This Dickie Orr was lucky I had no way to get my hands on him! I suspected Carlos would have said the same thing. I assured her, "Mateo will make the arrangements to push the annulment through as soon as possible, Estefanía! Do not spend a moment's more worry on the matter!" My nephew gave me a nod, and I smiled happily, "It will be handled quickly, with all discretion."

"Absolutely. In the meantime--" Mateo checked his watch, smiling slowly. "I suspect Papa has forgotten that there is no Alejandro slaving away in the kitchen tonight."

_Dios! He was right! _I groaned unhappily. "Indeed! Alas, I cannot stay and converse with my lovely Estefanía any longer! My customers are hungry, and without me in the kitchen, they will _starve_! That can't be allowed to happen at _Rosa's_! Enjoy your dinner, please. And for your sake, my lovely Estefanía, I shall send out an extra large portion of dessert!" I gave her a quick wink, and quickly hustled back to the kitchen.

Mateo stopped by the kitchen before he left _Rosa's_ for the evening, and after he'd walked Estefanía out to her car. The dinner rush was slowing down by then, and I waved to Mario, my Sous Chef, to have him take over for me. I wanted time to speak with Mateo in confidence. We stepped outside the kitchen and walked a bit in the brisk night air.

"Have you called Alejandro yet with the big news?" Mateo asked me.

I had, indeed! "I called him a few minutes after I came back inside the kitchen. You know me very well, Mateo! Would I sit on news that momentous?"

"Of course not. I did not expect you to, Tio Ricardo. Alejandro is feeling better?"

"_Ah! _As to that: he is as sick as a dog, unfortunately. Worse than yesterday. But he was glad I had not kept the news a moment longer than I did. How long have you known of this engagement?" I glared at my nephew in annoyance. "_I _should have been told of this from the moment it was announced. I am the Head of the family! Carlos is my son!"

"Carlos told me on Sunday evening only that he _intended_ to marry her, not that the engagement was official at all. And he asked me to keep the news to myself, which I did. He is entitled to announce the news himself."

"Which he chose _not_ to do." I was annoyed, now that I had thought on this more fully: Carlos should have told _me_ that he was engaged! If Estefanía had not chosen _Rosa's_ for tonight's business meeting, and hadn't decided to have the reception here, I would never have known a damned thing about it for 18 months, at least! "The boy is fortunate he is not around for me to---"

"Carlos is not a _boy_, Tio. Your son is a _man_. And it is precisely because you take this tone and this attitude with him that things are as they are between you two. You and he are so much alike, whether or not you wish to admit it! You need to accept that he has chosen the woman he wants to marry and---"

"You mistake me, Mateo! His choice is an excellent one that I cannot fault! Estefanía is the ideal woman for Carlos. Lovely, charming, graceful. A woman any man can be proud to call his wife. I thank God that such a woman will be my Carlos' wife. She will bear strong and healthy children that will carry on the Manoso name to future generations. Beautiful children, as well. As my elder son and his wife have done."

"Then it is merely that he did not announce the decision to you?"

"You think me old-fashioned, is that it? A relic? Out of date with the times?" I sniffed. "_Regardless! _I know what is the right way of doing things, Mateo. This was not it."

"It is as it is. You can either accept it gracefully and reach out your hand to Carlos when he returns, Tio Ricardo. Or you can stay angry at his choices--and risk having him hold to his position and walk further away from you than he has already. Because that is _exactly _what he will do--make no mistake about it."

"He has told you this, Mateo? In those words?" I was shaken to the core. Of course he would! Now that Estefanía was in the picture, Carlos would leave the family and build a life with his new wife and their future children. And then I would lose my son forever!

"He hasn't had to _say_ it, Tio Ricardo. I know Carlos. By now, _you_ should, too. Carlos is not Alejandro, Tio. He will not be scolded by you like some errant child for keeping his own counsel on his own affairs. And he will not put his own dreams aside, just to live a life that makes you happy and keeps peace in the family."

"You think me selfish?" The answer of course was obvious.

"I think you want what _you_ want--and to hell with what others think! And you can not deny that."

"You are right, Mateo." I admitted. "I do not deny that: I live my life on my own terms and I do not apologize for that! I _will _not!"

"And your younger son is _exactly_ like you, Tio Ricardo! So, tell me: why do you expect _him_ to behave any differently than _you_ would yourself, if you were in his position?"

Dios, I'd never had it put to me so plainly before!

"I have always tried to do what is best for _both_ my sons. For _all_ of my children. But especially for Carlos," I said, knowing it was true. "He and I are very much alike. Yes, that is true. Perhaps that is why we both find it so hard to reach out when we argue. But I have done nothing but try to give my son financial security that he would not otherwise have! Do you not _see _that, Mateo? Can you not somehow get that through his stubborn head?"

"Carlos does not want to be a chef, Tio! We have been around this so many times now, for so many years. He has said it plainly _hundreds_ of times. Do you never listen? Carlos wants to follow another path in life."

"But at what cost? Do you not see _that_? He is a soldier, Mateo. A brave man, I hope. I believe that. An honorable man. Estefanía sees this in him. This is good. But this is what I have not been able to get him to understand: being in the Army is all well and good. It got him out of the damned gangs. It gave him discipline. For that I am enormously grateful. But it gives him _no marketable skills_! Dios, do you not understand that? If he were in the Air Force, he could have learned to fly a plane and he could take that skill and be paid well to fly commercial airliners after the military no longer wants him! But he has no skills other than _shooting people_! What, pray God, will _that _give him in the way of a job, once the Army has had enough years out of him and no longer wants him? He will be _what_? Some security guard in a bank? Underpaid. Watching business men in their expensive suits put their money in the bank, and guarding them with his life as they take it out to spend it on a life _he_ will never be able to afford? I want _more _for my younger son than that, Mateo! I was able to give that to _Alejandro_! He has a skill that is envied! He will be the sole owner of _Rosa's_ one day! I wanted that for _Carlos_, too! Am I so selfish to want _both_ my sons to be a success? _Both _my sons to be partners, and to be respected men in the community? To give my sons everything I was given by my father?"

"Tio Ricardo, Carlos will not be some security guard in a bank! Never in his life would he settle for that! Don't you know what he does in the Army? It is a skill that he is well-paid for!"

"It is _not_! Open your eyes and see the truth, Mateo! Look at Estefanía! He cannot even afford to give his woman a _diamond _on her finger! He wants to marry and raise a family with Estefanía, and I thank God for that! I thank God that there will be--_God willing_--no more 90% fatality missions for my son, once he returns in 18 months. That he will have the opportunity to have a long and happy life with a beautiful woman who loves him and whom he loves. To raise many children with her. But to do that, Mateo, he needs a _career_, not just some lower-skill _job_! He needs _money_! Where will he get this money? Answer me that! He cannot point to skills that are marketable in this world, outside of the military. He has none! I am trying to offer him the financial security that will guarantee him a life that he can be proud of, providing his family with all the things they need and want to have the best of lives. That is _not_ selfish of me. That is what a father does when he loves his son as I love mine. _Both_ of mine."

For once Mateo was at a loss for words. I had never before let myself lose such control before him or anyone. But the fear of losing my son forever had set me off, and I found myself blinking back tears. I could _not_ lose Carlos! _I would not! _Surely Estefanía could make him see sense? But _no_--I had given my word that I would not reveal that I was his father. And I would keep my promise to him. Which meant that I would have to find some _other _way to get Carlos to stop being so bull-headed and short-sighted!

"Dear God, Tio Ricardo! Do you understand that Carlos thinks you _don't_ love him? That you've spent years, in his mind, belittling every choice he's ever made for his life, and choosing Alejandro over him in every decision you've ever made?" Mateo was looking at me, shell-shocked.

"I have _not_! _Never_ once have I willingly chosen Alejandro over Carlos. Never will I choose one son over the other. I am their father. I have always wanted what is best for _both_ of them. Alejandro knows this. Carlos does not. Perhaps I have gone about it the wrong way."

"I would say that is a safe assumption."

"I have been thinking on words that Estefanía said when she was here on Sunday night. She said--and I shall never forget this--'_There are people out there in the world who are like Carlos and me and your son. We march to our own drum, Papa. It doesn't mean we don't love the band. It merely means that we've found a different instrument to play_.'"

"She's an intelligent woman. The more I speak to her, the more I like her and respect her."

"And I too feel this way. It says good things about him that he has selected a woman who is so much more than just beautiful. I ask you to level with me on this. Be completely candid. You know Carlos like a brother, Mateo. Would he have proposed to her, then left her for 18 months?"

"You doubt her word that they are engaged officially, Tio?"

"No, I don't doubt her at all. She is an honest woman, I am sure of that. My heart and my gut tell me that. But I am now re-thinking all that I know about my son's character, Mateo. Because until tonight, I would have wagered all I owned that Carlos would refuse to offer marriage--for _her_ sake--until he was home and in a position to give Estefanía what he knows that she deserves."

"He was of that mind on Sunday when we spoke," Mateo confirmed, "By that I mean, to let her know that his official proposal would be made on the day he returned. But not before. Because he wanted her to be free to make another choice during those 18 months, if she so desired."

"Indeed. Which is why he did not want the women of our family to know of her existence. In order to allow her to live her life unencumbered by their expectations of her. _Exactly. _So somewhere between Sunday evening and Monday morning, Carlos changed his mind. Interesting, Mateo. Very interesting."

"Which means to me that he was now _certain _that he was not being unfair to her. That he was positive that she would _not_ change her mind. And that once he was convinced that he was not robbing her of anything, he allowed himself to do what his heart wanted to do all along: to commit fully to the woman he loves. And so he proposed marriage to her officially. And gave her the full authority to make whatever decisions she wanted to make to plan their nuptials."

"Partly to distract her, no doubt."

"No doubt, Tio. But partly to reassure her that they would have that future together. Carlos wanted to offer her peace of mind, and that was the best way--the _only_ way--he could do that, under the circumstances."

I gave a rueful smile, "Dios! It never even occurred to my son that she would plan to hold their wedding reception _here_, did it?"

"I can promise you, Tio Ricardo: it did _not_."

"Did he ask you to watch over her while he was gone?"

"He did. But only from a distance. It also never occurred to him that she would need an attorney and that she would look in the yellow pages and call _me_."

"It is good for Carlos' blood pressure that he doesn't know that any of this has happened, don't you agree, Mateo?" I permitted myself a small smile.

Mateo couldn't resist a smile in return. "They say that the Lord moves in mysterious ways. Perhaps all this was meant to be for some reason, Tio Ricardo?"

"I intend to keep my word to Carlos not to reveal my or Alejandro's relationship to him. Or to do anything that will set the women of the family off on Estefanía's scent like rabid bloodhounds."

"I'm certain he will appreciate that, Tio Ricardo. May I give you a very important piece of advice?"

"Of course. What is this advice?" I looked at my nephew closely. Mateo was never one for offering unsolicited advice. But then again, I had opened the subject myself by inviting him to be completely candid with me about Carlos.

"Never simply assume anything about your son Carlos, Tio Ricardo! Anything! Stephanie may think she is wearing her engagement ring, but I assure you that she is _not_. Your son gave her that ring because opals are her birthstone--her birthday is later this month. Her engagement ring is being made to Carlos' detailed specifications as we speak. I know: I was there when he ordered it."

My heart felt lighter. "He can afford to give her a diamond ring, then? This is good news, very good news! Carlos loves Estefanía, he would want to give her the best. I thank you for setting my mind at ease on that, Mateo."

"Not only does he want that, he can afford to do so, Tio. I know that Carlos has told you in confidence that he is a Captain in Delta Force. Not until tonight had it ever occurred to me that you had no idea what that meant financially to him. I am certain that Carlos is still unaware that you don't understand. So I will step out of my role as his attorney for one moment and act solely in his best interests as my brother."

"What are you trying to say, Mateo?"

"Carlos is paid enormous amounts of money for the skills he offers to Delta Force. Amounts that he has carefully invested for the future. There is not a chance in the world that your son will ever be employed as a bank security guard, Tio Ricardo. It is more likely that he himself would own the company that would employ hundreds of such men. Do you understand what I am trying to tell you? Why Carlos wanted you to understand who Stephanie was and what she meant to him, in the event the Will you witnessed would need to be probated?"

"_Dios_!" I can honestly say that I felt like a complete fool at that moment. "I had no idea, Mateo. None."

"Nor does she, Tio. But my responsibility to Carlos as my brother in this moment, I think, far outweighs my duty to him as his attorney. If telling you this has reassured you enough so that you will--once and for all--allow Carlos to live his life without trying to force a financial security on him that he doesn't need, then my decision to speak on this matter was the right one."

"I thank you, Mateo for telling me all of this. Carlos is a strong man. He will return in 18 months and we will make a new start, my son and I."

"I hope so. You're not old and foolish, Tio Ricardo. Stubborn as a mule, yes. Single-minded about getting your own way, certainly. But take another piece of advice, will you? Open your heart to Carlos the way you opened yours to me tonight. It will make an enormous amount of difference in how he behaves the next time you two butt heads together."

"He honestly thinks I don't love him?" My voice was quiet, unsure. How could this be? How could I have been so wrong for so long?

"He is convinced of it." Mateo shrugged, helplessly. "I'm very sorry to tell you this, Tio. I know from your face now for the first time how much this hurts you. But yes--the truth is that Carlos has all but given up hope of winning your respect or your love."

"He has both…but I just haven't done well in letting him know that. Clearly there is nothing I can do to make it up to him, at least until Carlos returns in 18 months. But I can do my best to support his woman emotionally while he is gone. To offer her friendship, if she wishes it. To perhaps grow to understand my son by getting to know the woman he loves so much. That I will do, Mateo. You have my word."

"You did well tonight to counsel the annulment. I spoke with Stephanie at length and I believe it is very possible an annulment will be granted with a minimum of effort on her part. Dickie Orr treated her very badly, Tio. Very badly. Carlos knows the full story, and I can't betray that confidence. I won't. But I will say that he'll be very happy to return home and know that in the church's eyes, Stephanie's marriage to Orr is null and invalid."

I could tell by the seriousness of my nephew's voice that he was talking about something even more heinous than infidelity. Dear God. Had he beaten her? I felt my fists clench. If I ever ran across this bastard, I would…

"Carlos has guaranteed that he will not bother Stephanie again. But that is her future he is protecting. You suggested a way to erase his hold on her past. You did well, Tio. Carlos will be happy to know that he will be her only husband, that a church wedding is possible now."

"Teresa's people can help, if you need--"

"I know: it will be done, don't worry. I've given her my guarantee, and you know I rarely guarantee anything relating to this kind of thing."

This much was true. "This Orr--he is a real bastard, yes?"

"Yes. But he has no power over her anymore. Stephanie is a strong woman, Tio. She has many friends and they will be there for her, as we will. Carlos will return and they will be married, and then she will become one of our family."

"And what of her own family, Mateo? Estefanía has family who support her, certainly?"

"She's actually not very close with her mother or her sister, I understand. But she has a father and a grandmother, and Carlos tells me that they are quite close." Mateo hesitated, and I could see him warring with himself. There was something he very much wanted to tell me. But what was it?

Suddenly I remembered Estefanía's impassioned defense of Carlos when I had attacked his choice to turn his back on the family business. And I knew, without a doubt, what Mateo wasn't saying. "Her mother does not support Estefanía's choices in life?" I saw by his face that I was right. "She perhaps thinks that her daughter should have stayed married to this Dickie person? She criticizes her daughter? And Estefanía feels then that her mother has chosen her sister over herself? This is part of why she and Carlos have connected so quickly? Because they understand each other's pain?"

Mateo nodded sadly, "Why could you see it so clearly in her case, but not in your son's?"

"I don't know," I admitted slowly. "But what I _do_ know is that, despite what Carlos thinks, I love him. I always have. I always will. And I know from my very gut that my son is a lucky man to have found her daughter. Estefanía is a treasure. Perhaps it is the same with her mother as it is with me? That she too loves her child and wants only the best for her. But, like me, perhaps she has been short-sighted and foolish in pushing her daughter into making choices that, while right for herself, were all wrong for Estefanía?"

"Perhaps. I hope that much is true, Tio," Mateo said quietly, "Because where there is love, there is always hope. I know how much pain this has caused Carlos. I can only imagine that Stephanie feels the same kind of pain. And I do not want that for her. Not at all."

"No. Nor I. I need to think on this further, Mateo." And I would. Because somehow I had to believe that there was a way to bridge the gap between parents and their children. _For all of our sakes…_


	55. Chapter 55

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 55

Have you ever noticed that sometimes Life just isn't fair? On Monday I'd been desperately trying to be on time to work, to no avail. Today I was doing just the _opposite_: trying my damnedest to be late so as to tick my hated nemesis Mrs. Lebowitz off one last time. And try as I might, _nothing was working_!

I'd been far too excited to sleep, tossing and turning for hours. So at dawn I'd finally given up the struggle and climbed out of bed. Taking a long leisurely shower that would have turned me pruney if I'd extended it any more still left me with plenty of time before I had to leave. So, desperately, I changed clothes not once, not twice, but _three times _in my seemingly fruitless bid to be late! Nope. No luck. I was still running early. _Way_ early.

Even my hair, which had an annoying habit of turning scary at a moment's notice, was--_naturally_--on its best behavior this morning, falling into soft ringlets over my shoulders. I needed a minimum of makeup today, as well: I was on such a natural high that it made cosmetics all but unnecessary. Except of course for my trusty mascara--which I layered on generously--and my Passionately Pink lipstick. Shit. _Now_ what could I do?

Honestly, there are just a limited number of ways to kill time in the morning; I'd pretty much exhausted them all by this point. I checked and re-checked the batteries in my cassette recorder (the audio component of my audio-visual Mrs. Lebowitz double knock-out punch). Just a little FYI: you really can find _anything_ on the net these days! And I'd known exactly what I was looking for in order to make my resignation truly memorable. _One for the ages_, you might say! That it would be, no doubt in my mind.

Grabbing the phone, I called Mary Lou to confirm that she hadn't changed her plans for the day. Nope: she was still planning to visit EE Martin to witness the extravaganza I'd planned for my swan song. And I meant 'song' in the literal sense! My long-time friend was beyond excited, and we giggled like fools imagining what the day would hold for my unwitting soon-to-be-ex-boss. _Damn! _I really would hate to piss me off: I can be truly imaginative when it comes to seeking revenge!

Finally, other than reading _War and Peace_ to a still-sleeping Rex, I was pretty much out of ideas on how to waste time by this point. So I bit-the-bullet as it were, and decided to leave the apartment.

A stop at the Tasty Pastry was next on this morning's agenda. I muttered in disbelief as I scored an impossibly perfect parking spot directly in front of the bakery, and walked in to find myself waited on in mere minutes! _Good God! _Was everyone on the planet in on the dastardly plan to make me on-time for work? It certainly seemed that way to me!

Nothing if not determined, I tried to fritter away some time by delaying my order and communing with the calorie-laden sweets that were in abundance all around me. But before long I found myself trudging to my car carrying two shopping bags with 3 dozen donuts, a dozen brownies, and a day-old '_Happy Birthday, Ted_!' birthday cake that I had impulsively added to my order. Well, Ted no doubt hadn't had himself a very happy day--how could he, without cake?--but _I _was going to make up for that by celebrating my last day as an EE Martin employee with a birthday cake breakfast! Yum, yum! Did I mention, I _love_ birthday cake??

I was still cherishing high hopes of getting ensnarled in a long traffic jam, whether through an accident (to someone else, hopefully) or as a result of one of those much-dreaded 'road construction projects'. But _no_! Even the Traffic Gods were against me: I caught every green light in Trenton and was on my way to Newark in record time. _Yeesh! _You really can't win for losing sometimes!

Motoring my POS car into the EE Martin parking lot, I passed a nondescript van that still somehow managed to set my spidey senses humming. I carefully swung around it, taking careful notice of the average-looking sandy-haired man sitting behind the wheel. He stared at me; I stared right back at him. He looked away first. _That's right, that's right! _Never mess with a Jersey Girl, buster! Particularly not _this_ Jersey Girl!

Pulling into a parking spot a few spots down from the van, I opened my handbag and whipped out my cell phone, as planned. "Hey, Tina, it's the Bakery Fairy! I'm downstairs! Is you-know-who anywhere around?"

"Nope! Because you're not late yet, Stevie!" Tina whined, "I thought you said you were going to be _late_!"

"It wasn't as easy as it sounded," I sighed miserably, "I guess I could always climb into the back seat and take a nap. But honestly, Tina, I have all this sugar here! And I'm afraid if I get too close to it, I'm going to end up eating it all myself--"

"You need help carrying it in? I can come out--"

I looked around and considered the matter carefully, "Nah. They're in shopping bags; I can manage it all. Expect me in like 10 minutes or so, Tina. I'll stall as much as I can. Bye!"

A sudden knock at my car window--which was thankfully rolled up--startled me so much that I dropped the phone out of my lap and into the well of the passenger's side seat. Looking around, I saw that it was the man from the van, now standing imposingly at my driver's side door. Shaking my head, I refused his clear gesture to roll down my window--what, did I look _stupid_? Instead, I retrieved my phone and remained seated in the locked car with my cell phone now clutched tightly in my hand.

The knock sounded again, and the man looked irritated. "Look, Miss, I just want a few words with you."

"I'm calling the police," I threatened, waving my phone at him.

"Don't bother," he shook his head, his face expressionless. He opened his black suit jacket. I thought for a heart-stopping minute that he was going for a gun. This was a novel way to be late, and one I wasn't exactly prepared for! Instead, he pulled out a leather wallet and laid it open against my car window. "Lawrence McEntyre. _FBI. _I only want a few minutes of your time, Miss Plum." The badge stayed in place for a few minutes, allowing me time to check his credentials.

SHIT! The guy was FBI? And even scarier, he knew my name?

I could clearly hear my mother's screechy voice in my head: _'Why me? Alicia Mastroantonio's daughter doesn't get arrested by the FBI! Of course she works in the button factory in the Burg, not fondling bras and panties all day in some cut-rate company in Newark!' _

This time I hastily complied with his repeated request to roll down my window. "I didn't do anything wrong, Agent McEntyre! Whatever happened, it wasn't my fault. Do I need an attorney?" I could always call Mateo, I guess. But damn, what the hell did the FBI want with _me_? I just ordered cheap lingerie, for crissakes! I wasn't on America's Most Wanted!

I found out a few minutes later. In explicit detail. And by the time I finished chatting with Mr. McEntyre, I was grinning ear to ear. Life, it seemed, was a lot fairer than I had given it credit for!

About 20 minutes later, a swarm of locusts descended upon the goodies, which I'd spread out in true buffet-fashion on the top of a bank of filing cabinets between two rows of cubicles. It was hard to see the sweets: all I could see was a sea of hungry EE Martin co-workers pushing and shoving their way to powdered-sugar Nirvana.

"So, girl, what's the deal with all this food?" Amanda looked over at me and asked, helping herself to a Boston cream and the last of the jelly-filled donuts. "Celebrating your birthday a few days early?"

"Celebrating _something_," I grinned, checking my watch. "You'll find out for yourself before too long."

"What's with the birthday cake?" Ruby puzzled, "Who the fuck is _Ted_, anyway?"

"Not a clue," I admitted, licking the lard-filled icing off my fingers as I plopped a generously-sized piece--complete with purple icing rose--onto a paper plate. "But whoever the hell he is, his loss is our gain. There's nothing quite so decadent for breakfast as birthday cake."

"Amen," Melinda chuckled, "You did get the no-calorie cake, right? I'm just checking before I dig into this."

"You know the rule, right? All the calories go to the birthday baby! In this case, our mysterious benefactor Teddy. He's going to be lucky to button up his pants tomorrow," Tina cackled.

There was an long-standing and iron-clad rule at EE Martin: no eating food at your desk! Everyone, of course, pretty much ignored said rule, sneaking in a donut or a bagel with their coffee and getting away with it as long as they didn't make it too obvious. This morning, of course, I was all about making it obvious--and the ladies in the office were all about stuffing their starving faces, since someone else was providing free food. '_A mutually beneficial arrangement_', I believe the saying goes.

This was the _visual_ component of my one-two knock-out punch. My _audio_ component rested in my handbag, with fresh batteries and a newly-recorded tape I'd scored from _You Tube _in the late hours of last night. I couldn't wait to play it for Mrs. L--but not until Mary Lou joined us at 10am.

I checked my watch again, then hit PRINT. And my '_I hereby resign, etc. etc_.' letter shot out into my hot little hands seconds later. I'd finished my cake, and now it was time to get the real party started with Human Resources! I folded the letter, tucked it into my handbag, and made tracks to HR before Mrs. Lebowitz made her much-anticipated appearance at my desk. It was just a matter of time before she heard about the two shopping bags of contraband I'd brought into the office. I wanted to put the next part of my plan into action before she did…

Fifteen minutes later, I was escorted into Penny Percival's office to discuss exactly why I was leaving EE Martin, and why I didn't seem terribly unhappy about doing so. Penny was taking it quite personally, it seemed!

She examined my personnel folder carefully as I sat tapping my toes to the happy little tune I was hearing in my head. I'd had to memorize the lyrics--rap not being my music of choice, you understand--and thankfully I had them pretty much down cold by now. Damn, was I a quick study or _what_? I'd even worked out a little dance routine to accompany it!

_Yo! 6 o'clock every morning you waking up yawning_

_To the sound of your alarm clock alarm_

_About an hour from now_

_You should be at the place of employment_

_Which is annoying cause it's so boring_

"Miss Plum? Did you hear what I asked you?"

I shook myself from my self-induced trance and tried to pretend to be even a tiny bit interested in the discussion she felt compelled to have with me.

_Yes_, I did want to resign. Oh, God, did I! Truer words had never been spoken! Especially now!…_No_, there was nothing Miss Percival or EE Martin could do to change my mind. Naught. Nada. Nil. Zilch. Not-a-damned-thing-in-the-flippin-frickin-world! I'm so outta here!…_Yes_, I was aware of the harsh economic realities in the world today. Not my problem, thankfully!…_Yes_, I did have a for-the-most-part spotless work record. Except, that is, for the few times that witch Mrs. L had written me up for tardiness and the once I'd been written up for calling her a bitch to her face. Too bad I couldn't wait and get today's performance written up…but then I'd be already an ex-employee, so that was rather pointless!…_No_, I wouldn't consider withdrawing my letter of resignation and thinking on it a bit more before acting so rashly. I was getting out in a nick of time, clearly. But then, I reminded myself, poor Miss Percival didn't know that.

_Your co-workers are talking too loud for you to ignore them_

_It affects your occupational performance_

_You wonder why your work load is so enormous_

_Because your boss just laid off three quarters of the whole office_

_People get depressed, they get ulcers_

_From the stress that the corporate environment causes_

My mind wandered again to Canibus song I planned to perform for my no-doubt incredulous co-workers later today. I found myself bopping along to the music, my head nodding back and forth as Miss Percival blathered on and on and on.

_Yes_, I understood that my refusal to give them any hopes of changing my mind was a serious matter. And this interested me, because???…_No_, I wasn't interested in taking my three weeks of vacation and de-stressing, and then coming back refreshed and ready to work again in November. I suspected strongly that, come November, there wasn't going to _be_ anything to come back _to_. But then again, Agent McEntyre hadn't accosted Miss Percival in the parking lot, he'd button-holed me…_Yes, _I would have to agree that EE Martin was a convenient location in which to work. What the hell did that have to do with anything?…_No_, I wasn't interested in taking part in a survey on the working conditions. Was this chick deranged?

_Regardless of how you ultimately wanna solve this_

_Seems to me like you've got one of four choices:_

_You could take a new job offer for more chips_

_Stick it out a little longer or forfeit_

_But my advice to anybody that wants to quit_

_It'll feel much better if you say it like this:_

"Miss Plum, if I could have your signature here?" her voice interrupted my pretty-damned-awe-inspiring performance.

She could, oh, yes indeedy! I scratched my name happily: Stephanie M. Plum.

"If you'll wait, I'll have your check drawn up immediately. And I'll need to ask you for your employee badge." She looked at me regretfully.

I forked over the plastic ID so fast her perfectly-coiffed head spun. "Anything else I can help you with?" Now that I was getting my last pay-check from EE Martin I was definitely in the mood to be helpful! I checked my watch surreptitiously.

"Am I keeping you from some important appointment, Miss Plum?" she said, with the first hint of snarkiness. "That's the _fourth_ time you've checked your watch in the last 10 minutes."

I shrugged carelessly. "Places to go, people to see. You know the drill, right?"

There was an icy silence. O-K. Evidently she _didn't_. Then she regrouped, with an obviously fake smile. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave the office immediately once you've retrieved your personal belongings from your cubicle, I'm afraid." She handed me a few pieces of paper with insurance information on it and God-only-knows what else. Then she stood to indicate that our business was now concluded.

"I'm done here? Officially?" I couldn't wait to leave.

"You're now officially no longer an EE Martin employee, Miss Plum," she confirmed, "Have a good day."

"You too," I invited, knowing that in a very short time she wasn't going to be having a very good day at all. But I knew someone who was going to be having an even _crappier_ one. And for once, praise the Lord, it wasn't going to be _moi_!

By the time I ambled my way back to my cubicle--or what was my cubicle at one time--I was excited to see it was now Grand Central Station. Yep, Mrs. Lebowitz was there and so were most of the co-workers who were in my department. Or what had been my department at one time. Damn, I was really going to find it hard to get used to being a former EE Martin lingerie buyer…NOT!

"Well, well, look who just decided to favor us with the pleasure of her company," Mrs. L cackled. "I have a few bones to pick with you, Miss Plum."

_Bones_ to pick with me? Eek! That sounded just plain-ass _creepy_. Literally, I mean. I could almost imagine the Wicked Witch herself dressed all in black, tearing the flesh off the bones of her unfortunate victims and boiling them in her caldron while winged monkeys flew by the window of her haunted castle.

Then I remembered that _I _held all the power now, and folded my arms defiantly. "Bones, huh? Pick away, Toots. But make it snappy: you're on my dime, now."

"Excuse me?" She was properly incredulous. "_What did you just say to me_?"

There was an audible sizzle in the air, and the crowd grew restless for blood. Whether they were getting hers or mine, they weren't exactly sure. But it was obvious to one and all by now that _one_ of us two was going down and not getting back up again! Nope. This was it. High Noon. The final smack-down. The ultimate throw-down, as it were.

"You heard me, bitch." My eyes sparkled. I was so pumped up it was scary. I met Tina's eyes, and she pointed to her watch.

_Damn. _I'd promised to wait for Lou! I looked over at the clock. Just before 10am! There was still hope!

My phone rang seconds later, and I grabbed impatiently for it. "Yes, this is Stephanie Plum…Yes, I know a Mary Lou Stankovic…Fine. Send her back here. _Pronto_!"

"Stankovic? Is she a new vendor?" Mrs. Lebowitz asked. "I don't recall authorizing any appointment with a Mary Lou Stankovic. Whom does she represent?"

"Herself. She's a friend of Ted's. She's here to have a piece of his birthday cake."

"Have you been _drinking_, Miss Plum?"

I grinned as I spotted Lou making her way down the aisle. _Let the show begin!_

"No, unfortunately. But I plan on doing a _lot_ of celebrating after today. Don't you want to know why I'm so happy?"

"I do not. This is EE Martin's--you're not supposed to be happy on our time!"

"Tough nuggies, Zelda. I'm happy--and there's not a damned thing you can do about it."

"We'll see about that. And don't call me Zelda."

"Why not? Isn't your name Zelda?" I looked around, pretending to be confused.

"You're not authorized to call me Zelda," she insisted, "Only level 28s and above are permitted that familiarity."

"Got it! God knows, the _last_ thing in the world I want to do is be familiar with you, Zelda," I nodded understandingly. "Are we done picking bones yet?"

"I'm going to be writing you up for this _entire_ escapade, Miss Plum." She waved her arm around grandly, "This unauthorized food display is entirely inappropriate, for one thing."

"And almost entirely gone, for another," I pointed out. Except for the birthday cake, thank God. There was still ¾ of it left, I was more than pleased to discover.

"And your wandering away from your desk is _another_ infraction. As is inviting Mrs. Stankowink here to come and have cake."

"S-T-A-N-K-O-V-I-C. Stankovic. Not Stankowink. Mary Lou Stankovic. Here," I grabbed a pen, "Let me spell it for you so you don't screw it up in your precious little report."

"You think I'm joking, do you?"

"No. I think you're a joke. There's a _big _difference."

"And I'm going to add yet _another_ infraction in my report: calling me by my first name."

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHH!" I shivered. "I'm scared!"

My co-workers were now riveted to the show, and I felt it was time to go for the big finish. Before the big guys came in and stole my thunder.

"I have a surprise for you, Zelda. Everybody? Can I ask you to gather around a little closer, please?" I kicked off my shoes, and climbed up onto my desk for all to see. Yep: I'd pretty much gotten the entire office here by now. What was coming next was guaranteed to be spoken about for years. I leaned down and fished my recorder out of my handbag, and pressed PLAY.

Then I launched into my routine. And damn, did I pull out all the stops!

[Canibus]

_Yo! 6 o'clock every morning you waking up yawning_

_To the sound of your alarm clock alarm_

_About an hour from now_

_You should be at the place of employment_

_Which is annoying cause it's so boring_

_Your co-workers are talking too loud for you to ignore them_

_It affects your occupational performance_

_You wonder why your work load is so enormous_

_Because your boss just laid off three quarters of the whole office_

_People get depressed, they get ulcers_

_From the stress that the corporate environment causes_

_Regardless of how you ultimately wanna solve this_

_Seems to me like you've got one of four choices:_

_You could take a new job offer for more chips_

_Stick it out a little longer or forfeit_

_But my advice to anybody that wants to quit_

_It'll feel much better if you say it like this:_

[Biz Markie]

_Take this job and shove it_

_I ain't workin here no more_

_Take this job and shove it_

_I ain't workin here no more_

_Take this job and shove it_

_I ain't workin here no more_

_Take this job, take this job, take this job and shove it_

[Canibus]

_Yo, if your boss is a S-o-B_

_Tell him to s-h-o-v-e the j-o-b_

_Put your middle finger up slowly_

_Put it close enough to his face so he can examine it closely_

_Say I ain't workin here no more_

_Who do you think you are?_

_Rip your apron off, throw it on the floor_

_Run to the door, to the payphone_

_Make a toll-free call_

_Tell your spouse what happened and where you are_

_So they can come and get you in the car later on_

_And help you search for a new 9 to 5 job_

_If the unemployment line ain't that long_

_You can take your time printin out w-9 forms_

_Eventually, you'll get on if you try hard enough_

_And you'll get money if you keep punchin your time card enough_

_Maybe you hate it, maybe you love it_

_But if you hate it all you gotta do is get mad and tell the boss to_

[Biz Markie]

_Take this job and shove it_

_I ain't workin here no more_

_Take this job and shove it_

_I ain't workin here no more_

_Take this job and shove it_

_I ain't workin here no more_

_Take this job, take this job, take this job and shove it_

[Canibus]

_Yo, some occupations are like slave gigs_

_The boss is favored and get placed in something spacious_

_While the most hated get placed in some small cubicle spaces_

_Or get thrown down in the basement, get your stapler confiscated_

_You constantly waitin for a paycheck_

_Twelve months passed by and you still ain't get paid yet_

_Here's a optimistic motto_

_If you ever late for today you could say you early for tomorrow_

_Most 9 to 5's are hard_

_Cause the description in the job ain't no picnic in the park_

_People get hired_

_Drink coffee to stay wired_

_So they don't get tired, sleep late, and get fired_

[Biz Markie]

_You came in late, you already ate,_

_Nowww, you wanna take a lunch break!??!_

[Canibus]

_Ay, yo bust it, ain't no need to discuss it_

_Just take this job and shove it, right between your buttocks_

[Biz Markie]

_Take this job and shove it_

_I ain't workin here no more_

_Take this job and shove it_

_I ain't workin here no more_

_Take this job and shove it_

_I ain't workin here no more_

_Take this job, take this job, take this job and shove it_

_Take this job and shove it_

_I ain't workin here no more_

_Ah ah ah ah ahahah ah_

_I ain't workin here no more_

_Take this job and shove it_

_I ain't workin here no more_

_Ay ay ay ayee ay_

_I ain't workin here no more_

[Canibus and the Biz]

_It's comin from Canibus and the Biz_

_It's comin from Canibus and the BizFrom,_

_from Canibus and the Biz _

"And from Stephanie Plum," I finished my performance with an enthusiastic leap off my desk, landing on my feet in front of an incredulous--and dismayed--Zelda '_Oh-no-you-didn't_' Lebowitz. I gave her the called-for middle finger, and watched as she stood truly dumb-founded and dazed. The woman honestly had no clue what the fuck to do or say next.

Meanwhile, the applause from my co-workers was resounding, and I took several long and satisfying bows. As I did, the Wicked Witch desperately tried to come back with an appropriately threatening response to my volley. After all, a threat to write up someone who's telling you to take your job and shove it up your _you-know-what _is kinda impotent, right?

"In case you didn't understand it: _I quit. _Effective immediately. I'm gone, I'm outta here, I ain't workin here no more. Any more bones to pick with me before I leave, bitch?"

"You _can't _quit," she huffed. "I have no one to put in your job! This is our busiest time of the year! I have _dozens_ of vendors scheduled and no one but you knows lingerie! _What am I going to do?_"

"Frankly, my dear Zelda," I did my best Clark Gable impression, "_I don't give a damn_! But, just between us, I kinda think you're going to have much _bigger_ problems before long…"

By this time, Mary Lou was laughing so hard she was crying, and Tina was more than busy snapping pictures with her camera phone. She wasn't the only one, either! In fact, remembering the phones aimed at my direction as I was gyrating on the desk, I was pretty certain that I stood a good chance of being uploaded to _You Tube _myself! I was sure I'd choreographed a winning routine, though, so I wasn't going to sweat it. Much.

But my mother---well, no question about it--my mother was going to shit bricks. '_Why me? Clara Calderone's daughter doesn't climb on her desk and recite rap music while she shimmies her hips and gives her ex-boss the middle finger!_'

"Not my problem, Ellen," the new improved Stephanie Plum would reply. After all, I was Wonder Woman! I was invincible! I was now officially the stuff of which Legends were made!

Spotting the man whose photo I'd been shown hours earlier as he grabbed Mrs. Lebowitz's arm and they started to make their way into her office, I picked up my phone and dialed the number Agent McEntyre had programmed in for me.

"The Eagle has landed," I said importantly, "I repeat: The Eagle has landed!"

Moments later the office was swarming with unauthorized visitors, all dressed in black and packing heat. It was an honest-to-God FBI raid, and EE Martin was Ground Zero!

As Agent McEntyre approached, I turned and dramatically pointed to the back of the aisle where Zelda Lebowitz had turned a truly sickly shade of green. She'd never resembled Margaret Hamilton more. "There she is: Mrs. Zelda Lebowitz. _BOOK'ER, Danno_!"

Daniel McEntyre allowed a small smile to cross his previously-emotionless face, "Miss Plum, your Country thanks you for a job well done!"

He crossed over and read Mrs. Lebowitz the Miranda Warning before snapping the cuffs on her. His fellow agent did the same to her companion, one Eugene Sipowitz, who'd been under surveillance for months for money-laundering. Apparently EE Martin III, Tina's boss, had been in bed with the Mafia (figuratively speaking) for years. He'd been increasingly careless in his business practices, finally catching the FBI's attention and triggering the massive raid this morning.

In the parking lot earlier, I'd been shown photos of Mrs. Lebowitz and several other men: two of whom I recognized as regular visits of the Wicked Witch. The other photo had been of Eugene R. Sipowitz, who it seemed from wire-taps the FBI had on him, was preparing to make the usual drop-off himself today. This was big news: he, it seemed, was the big fish in the operation. Or the big bird, as the case may be: I'd been asked to call Agent McEntyre when I spotted him, and use the code phrase, "The Eagle has landed." I'd been more than delighted to help the guys in black!

As we watched the scene with Mrs. L and her cohort unfolding, Tina's jaw dropped, and she pointed silently to the other end of the floor, where other FBI agents were similarly escorting her boss out of his office. He was followed by the other partner--his cousin Milton Martin--and their rabbit-faced accountant, Morton McFurtz. Looks like the FBI had scored big today!

So had I:

Three dozen donuts from the Tasty Pastry: $26.00

One dozen brownies from the Tasty Pastry: $11.25

One day-old deep discount birthday cake from the Tasty Pastry: $5.50

Seeing your Wicked Witch of an Ex-Boss hauled off in handcuffs for money-laundering: _Priceless!_

Tina looked at me unhappily. "Good thing I have my resume updated. I kind of think I can forget about getting a letter of reference, though, don't you think?"

I sighed, then remembered the check I held. I walked over and tapped Agent McEntyre on the arm. I pointed to my check sadly. "This any good for anything other than lining the bottom of my hamster's cage?"

He looked to the right and then to the left, and dropped his voice confidentially. "It is, provided you manage to get it cashed by noon, Miss Plum. At 12:01 pm, we serve a Court order on Chase bank that allows us to confiscate all of EE Martin's financial assets."

News that the company was officially closed was in the process of being delivered to all of the employees. Everyone was being told to grab their personal belongings as quickly as possible and exit the building, which was now going to be permanently shuttered under order of the Government.

People were buzzing and the place was pretty much in pandemonium. We could see news vans pulling up in the parking lot, and Tina, Mary Lou and I decided to get out while the getting was still good. Grabbing the remnants of Ted's birthday cake, I climbed into my POS car and motored as fast as I could to the nearest Chase bank. I had a paycheck to cash!

And one hell of a story to tell!


	56. Chapter 56

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 56

It was three days afterwards, on Saturday, that the dust from the fall-out of my exciting last day at EE Martin finally began to clear. It had been the most surreal experience of my life, thus far. And, as you know by now, I've had some pretty damned surreal things happen to me! That's kind of scary when you consider that I just turned 27 today; but I guess that's really neither here nor there….

It had been just my luck that the frickin' WNBC-TV news van had barreled into the parking lot as my posse and I had been making our escape from the FBI raid--and, as a result, we'd been caught on film. A _lot_ of film! Unfortunately, our perfectly understandable euphoria as a result of my admittedly-unique resignation method had translated onto film in a way that did not seem entirely appropriate in the eyes of the average viewer. In other words: Tina, Mary Lou and I now were immortalized on film grinning, giggling and high-fiving each other like loons as we exited the building. And that, I readily admit, is an _extremely_ questionable behavior when you're emerging from a massive, very high-profile FBI raid on your ex-place of employment!

_I_ must have stood out, somehow, because footage of me, half-eaten birthday cake inexplicably in hand, had led the news for more segments than I cared to count. And in more markets! Although the story had started in NJ/NY media markets on Wednesday, by Thursday the story--and my small part in it, rap resignation and all--was _nationwide_, thanks to NBC's sister stations, MSNBC and CNBC. I was a triple threat--and it wasn't pretty! Not that I guess I could really blame the media--much, anyway. We'd been in too much of a hurry to get to the bank by noon, so that I could cash my last EE Martin check without it bouncing, to stick around and answer the dizzying assortment of questions that the crush of news reporters had shouted at us. It was a costly mistake, because they'd simply gotten their answers from other sources. Far more--shall we say?--_inventive_ sources.

As a result, I'd spent the following few days fending off what seemed like _hundreds _of calls from the press (both broadcast and print) begging for the exclusive story of my exciting (if in truth pretty much non-existent) experiences as an FBI Mole in the newest Newark hot-bed of Mafia corruption. Depending on which news day it was--and which media outlet you were following--my modest role in the money-laundering raid at EE Martin had morphed dramatically from simply notifying Agent McEntyre by phone on Wednesday morning to verify that Eugene Sipowitz was on the premises; to being the informant who'd blown the whistle on their huge money-laundering scheme in the first place; to planting bugs in Mrs. Lebowitz' office and on her person, thus permitting the FBI to track her nefarious activities for weeks; to being an under-cover FBI agent who'd spent months masquerading as a street rapper outside a Newark Social Club (fabled to be a popular Mafia hot spot) to keep tabs on God-knows-who! OY-VEY!

I didn't even want to _think_ about how that last one had gotten started. Or what the local Mafioso's opinion might be regarding rapping cake-addicted stoolpigeons. I'd almost wet my pants when I'd seen Agent McEntyre at my car door and thought he was pulling a gun on me! I sure as shit didn't need anyone in the Mob pulling one on me for _real_! I had to do something to stop the press' crazy reports--_fast_! Lord only knew what they'd have me responsible for if I didn't take drastic action! Finally, yesterday morning (after a lengthy telephone consultation with Mateo) I'd warned the press in a written statement that I would have my attorney sue them for libel if they continued their dangerous speculations about my role in the whole unfortunate matter. That ended that.

Well, that and the fact that the media had pretty much found _other_ fish to fry by then, so to speak. According to those ubiquitous 'unidentified sources', EE Martin accountant Morton McFurtz had given in to FBI pressure yesterday afternoon, and finally agreed to turn on his co-defendants in exchange for a lighter sentence. Euphoric at getting some new legs for their by-then-decrepitly-old story, the rabid press had swooped down on McFurtz and his family like vultures. My part in the FBI raid (_whatever_ it was presumed to be) wasn't mentioned again by the media--and that suited me just fine!

Then there was _'the other matter_', as I so euphemistically called it. My co-workers had of course spread the tale of my 'Take This J-O-B and S-H-O-V-E It' performance to just about everyone they knew, whether that person knew me or not. And, as I'd suspected it would be, my novel farewell to EE Martin had been uploaded to _You Tube_, where it had been doing an extremely brisk business since Wednesday. So far--as of this morning--I was up to 384,745 hits! The title of the viral video was: 'hot lingerie babe on desk raps her notice'. Everyone--Burg or not, it appeared--had seen the video themselves or knew someone who had. I was Legend. This was not as enviable a position to be in as it had once sounded. Why? Oh, _come on_, why don't you take a guess?

The horrific news that her younger daughter's foray into rap music was the newest sensation on the net had garnered me no fewer than 19 '_why me?_' calls from an apoplectic Ellen Plum, who'd first heard about it from Mrs. Tizdales' sister Sally's cousin Ann's best friend Myrtle, who'd sworn on a stack of Bibles that she'd heard from an unnamed eye-witness that poor Ellen Plum's daughter was drunk and singing raunchy songs and that she'd been fired from her job just minutes before the FBI had swooped in and arrested the entire office for terrorism!

My mother wasn't happy, not by a long shot. Not about _You Tube_ (which she finally saw with her own eyes, then went into melt-down). Not about the FBI raid, and my part in it. Not about the fact that I was now not only planning to _fondle_ lingerie for a living, I was planning on _designing_ it. And even worse, I was still determined to marry a mysterious non-Burg dark-skinned stranger. Nope, mother-daughter relations were beyond rocky these days. There would be no birthday cake looming on the horizon from Ellen Plum today, for certain. Probably no dessert at all--not until I turned age 54, at the least.

Needless to say, my poor answering machine had short-circuited from all that activity over the last 3 days, and I was now breaking in a new updated model. Unfortunately, they didn't make answering machines that erased whiny or nagging mother calls before you were subjected to them. Hmmmm, I'll bet I could make a mint with _that_ idea!

_Anyway_, just before 9am on Saturday, Mary Lou and I were at my kitchen table celebrating my 27th birthday by scarfing down Boston creams with our coffee, as we waited impatiently for Tina's immanent arrival. We had a huge day planned: we were going to hit a number of bridal salons to look at gowns, both for me and for them. Then later this afternoon we were planning on driving to Tina's apartment just outside Newark so that we could change our clothes for our girls' night out birthday celebration at _Rosa's_. Tina had made the reservations for 7:30pm, and we were all looking forward to a truly delicious meal. My friends were almost as big food lovers as I was; I'd promised them a meal to remember!

My birthday had begun with a knock on my door just a few minutes after 8; I'd thought for a moment that Lou had arrived early with the Tasty Pastry bounty she'd promised. I'd bounced to the door in a great mood, and thrown it open to discover, instead, a delivery man laden with birthday gifts for me! After confirming that I was indeed Stephanie Plum, he'd presented me with a breath-taking arrangement of 27 absolutely perfect red roses! Followed by the cutest plush teddy bear, clutching a heart-shaped red satin pillow with the words '_I Love You_' written upon it. I was grinning like a fool when I saw him: I'm a sucker for teddy bears! And finally, for the big WOW finish, he'd leaned down and picked up a huge basket I'd missed seeing before: a _Godiva _Chocolate Lover's basket, packed to overflowing with seemingly endless boxes of _Godiva_ truffles, assorted milk and white and dark chocolates, and even hot chocolate mixes of every variety! Seems like my sweet-tooth was going to be plenty satisfied, Ellen Plum or not!

I was speechless: I knew of course they were all from Carlos, and tears came to my eyes when I thought of how he'd planned this magnificent surprise for me while facing his return to war. He really was the most extraordinarily romantic man I'd ever met! God, I couldn't wait to be with him again! I had so much to tell him; I know he'd be proud of me for taking the chance for a new career with Dawson Books. And I know he'd have laughed like hell when he heard about my last day at EE Martin.

"So anyway, Lou," I stuffed the rest of my Boston cream into my mouth and chewed as fast as I could, "Dawson let me hire Tina as my Administrative Assistant. And she's getting almost _double_ what she got from those crooks at EE Martin! He's got _tons_ of contacts in the industry, and he's promised to help find jobs for all of my friends, one way or another. So all's well that ends well."

"I'm glad, I thought maybe you could do something for Tina--but the others? That's _fantastic_! Your friend Stella's still on her honeymoon, she probably doesn't know anything about all of this," Mary Lou said, sipping her coffee. "Can you imagine how shocked she'll be when she gets back?"

"Don't be too sure about that! The story's been _everywhere_! Thank God they finally stopped calling _here_, Lou. I don't know who gave them the idea I was an FBI plant--but if I ever get my hands on him or her, they're _dead meat_!"

"Good thing you had an attorney warn them off," my friend congratulated me, "Lenny was scared to death when he saw that I was on TV and there was Mafia involved! They'd just as soon shoot you as look at you! He wanted to take the kids and me and go off to Kansas to his mother's farm for a week or so until the story stopped running. But I talked him out of it."

"Well, they're all over that rabbit-faced accountant now like a cheap suit, so maybe even my mother will settle down a bit. Not likely, but we can always hope…"

"She's pissed, huh?"

"She's _beyond_ pissed. She won't stop calling me, leaving '_why me_?' messages every time one of her friends or neighbors mention her daughter the embarrassment. I swear to God, Lou, I wanted to rip the phone out of the wall and scream in frustration for a few days there! Did _I_ make the EE Martin partners take Mafia money? No. Did _I_ single-handedly close down their company and put hundreds of people out of work? No. But you'd think I _did_, from how my mother whines and whines about my involvement in the whole damned thing."

"You're just lucky you were quitting anyway, Steph! You could easily have been out on the street without a job. And if _you_ were, _Tina_ would be too. And all your other friends wouldn't have had a chance at Dawson Books finding them jobs."

"Stop being _logical_, Lou! My mother _abhors_ logic. My mother thrives on gossip--preferably wrong, preferably bad. The Ellen Plum Chronicles continue. It's all about _her_, don't you know?"

"Is she still on the _Joe-Morelli-is-perfect-for-you _kick?"

"Is the Pope Catholic? Any excuse to get him into the conversation. _Any_ conversation! She actually wanted me to call Morelli to see if he could pull strings with the FBI--_as if_--to get my face edited out of the news broadcasts! Do you _believe _that?"

"It's pretty funny. In a sick twisted way, I mean."

"And she had me stop over for dinner yesterday under the pretext of picking up my birthday gifts. And guess who was already there, ready and waiting for some roast chicken and mashed potatoes?"

"You're kidding me! _Morelli_?"

"With a flippin' ass coffee mug that says '_Cupcakes are yummy_' on it as a little 'I was thinking of you' present. Needless to say, it got left behind when I told her I wasn't staying for dinner and huffed out. Shit! She's probably _bronzed_ the damned thing by now."

"Wouldn't you think she'd remember that this was the very same guy who popped your cherry and wrote about it so everyone in the Burg knew? And that she'd keep you far away from him as a result--especially since she grounded you for most of the summer because of it?"

"Nope, not my mother. Oh and get this: it's become a bizarre little _wink-a-dink-dink _with him! He actually asked me if I'd bought any éclairs at the Tasty Pastry lately."

"I'm going to barf! He _didn't_!"

"He _did_! His sense of humor is sophomoric, Lou. Course I had an answer for him."

"Which was?"

"That _no_, I hadn't been statutorily raped by anyone lately. And that he was just damned good and lucky he'd left for the Navy right afterwards--or else he'd have been making license plates in the slammer instead of buying stupid '_Cupcakes are yummy_' mugs. And hitting on women who were engaged and not interested in what he was offering."

"You _go_, girl!"

"My Dad actually stepped in then and flat-out asked him if he'd hit on me and would you believe he said _no_."

"Liar."

"And I asked what part of 'you wanna go out for dinner?' _wasn't _hitting on me?"

"And?"

"He said--_get this_--he was 'just being friendly'. So I told him to try being _un_friendly for a change. Then I told my mother that since the last _three_ times she called me it turned out to be all about Morelli, I was _not_ going to stay for dinner, thank you very much. Because it disrespected my relationship to Carlos, and I didn't need my mother doing that when I was looking for emotional _support_--not emotional _sabotage_."

"Good for you!" Mary Lou cheered.

"And my Dad told me he was proud of me. Then he told her that the next time he looks over his dinner table and sees Joe Morelli sitting there, he's going to get up and leave. That he'll be damned if he'll keep sharing his dinner table with someone who dishonored his daughter and openly bragged about it all over town!"

"She must have been stunned!"

"She was, trust me! She looked like she'd been hit in the head with a two by four! My Dad never--I mean _never_--confronts her on her shit. Even Morelli looked surprised. But I was so happy that my father stood up for me!"

"How is he handling the whole _You Tube _thing?"

"He has no clue what the hell _You Tube _is. He's just happy I quit EE Martin before the Feds got there. And he told my Mom that if the TV and the computer upset her so damned much, she should just turn them off! Actually it was almost like the _Invasion of the Body Snatchers _movie, you know? But I like this Pod Dad. A lot. I hope he sticks around!"

"How about your grandmother?"

"She's _loving _it! Naturally! The Clip n' Curl is all abuzz about it, she says. And she has 'inside sources' she told them, so she can keep them up to date on everything that happens! She's in her glory, trust me!"

Just then a knock sounded on the door, and I raced to answer it. "_Tina_! It's about time you got your ass over---"

"Sorry, it's just me." Mateo stood there, bemused. "I take it your Triumvirate is meeting today?" He nodded hello to Mary Lou, who'd followed me to the door.

I waved him inside, introduced the two of them, and we three made ourselves comfortable in the kitchen, where he gladly accepted a cup of coffee, black, no sugar.

"Wait! How'd you know there are three of us?" He'd never met either Mary Lou or Tina!

"You're all over the news, Steph, remember? The _three _of you, slapping five in the EE Martin parking lot. To say nothing about you being a _You Tube_ sensation! You're famous. Get used to it!"

I groaned, "Damned news crew!"

"Any more problems from those reporters who were saying you were an FBI informant?"

"No. Thank God: I'd rather not be rubbed out by the Mafia for being a rat."

"Don't sweat it: the people who make those kind of decisions in the Mob have much more accurate sources than the press," Mateo pointed out. "The one who needs to be worried is _McFurtz_, not you."

"He _did _make a deal, then?" It didn't surprise me: he'd looked scared shitless!

"He folded to pressure, as the Feds expected he would. He'll be lucky to be alive for the trial--not that I feel sorry for him in the least. Lots of innocent people are out of jobs because of his greed, and that of the Martin cousins."

"Well, fortunately _Tina's_ not one of them. Dawson let me hire her as my Admin Assistant. And he's going to be pulling strings to get my other friends hired, too."

"He's a good man. I'm happy for you, Stephanie." He looked over and saw the flowers, and smiled, "Carlos has good taste, yes?"

"Did you see my teddy bear?" I produced him proudly, "Isn't he _adorable_?"

"Yeah. And you got the _Godiva_ basket too?" He looked around for it.

"It's out in the living room. You knew about it?" I was surprised.

"Yep: I was there when he picked it out: Carlos was _very_ insistent that all this get done before he left. Happy birthday, Stephanie!" He produced a small box from the inside of his jacket pocket. "Carlos ordered this especially for you. And there's a note to accompany it." He handed over an envelope and I tore into it immediately, forgetting everyone but my man.

_Dearest Babe-_

_I wish I could be there in person to wish you a happy birthday, but that's impossible. But Mateo has agreed to see that you get this, along with one of several birthday surprises I've planned for you. We didn't have as long as either of us would have liked to be together, but we made very special memories that will last until I can return home and take you into my arms again and make you my wife, as you are now my woman. And my woman is a special woman. Wear this proudly, Babe. And think of me loving you, because I do and I always will. You were born to fly, Wonder Woman!_

_Love always,_

_Carlos_

I slowly opened the box and saw the most elegant 18 karat yellow gold charm bracelet with oval links, laying on a bed of midnight blue velvet. The bracelet had one oval charm on it, and when I realized what it was, I gave a loud gasp! It was the Wonder Woman logo, in raised gold, with tiny embedded diamonds around it, where the stars would be in the WW logo.

"He sketched it out and the jeweler made it especially for you. It's one of a kind: Carlos told me to tell you to wear it proudly and show the world who you really are."

Mateo watched carefully as I re-read Carlos' note and then took the bracelet out and put it on my left wrist. To do that, I'd had to take off the opal tennis bracelet.

"He didn't need to do all this," I said softly, "Especially since he didn't have much time to himself before he had to go back. But I'm glad he did: I like having things that remind me of him. I'll wear it always."

"Don't add any charms to the bracelet, okay?" Mateo said, almost hesitantly.

"Why not?" Mary Lou was examining the bracelet now, and I looked up as I asked Mateo the question. Then suddenly I knew the answer. "He ordered more charms, didn't he?" _Of course he had!_

Mateo looked sheepish, "I'm really not supposed to say--"

"I'll take that as a _yes_, then."

"He was a very busy man on Saturday afternoon, that's all I'll say."

"I wish I could tell him thank you, but--"

"He knows, Stephanie. He told me that he wanted to celebrate the special moments the two of you shared. That's all I'll tell you about what's coming. That and the fact that they were all special orders--and he was _very_ particular."

"Do you think the jeweler kept Carlos' sketches? Do you think--could I have them when he's finished with them? I'd like to tuck them away in my memory box."

Mat smiled, "I'll make sure you get them, I promise. In the meantime, I got to talk to Dickie Orr yesterday afternoon."

"What joy for you!" I said, rolling my eyes. "Is he still as primo a horse's ass as he was during my 5 minute nightmare of a marriage to him?"

"He's an ass, for sure. But he's more than willing to support the request for the annulment. In fact, he offered to say anything I wanted him to, to sign anything I wanted him to sign---"

"What's in it for him? That's so unlike Dickie!" And it was.

"Looked like he had a run-in with an angry client," Mateo shrugged, "Or a jealous husband. But regardless, he's all about being co-operative these days. Very co-operative! You'll get the annulment, no problem. Probably by Christmas."

I grinned in delight, "Now _that's _good news! Then I can put him out of my mind for good. It never happened!"

"Your mother's gonna flip when she hears that," Mary Lou noted, and we both knew she was right.

"Your mother was a Dickie Orr supporter?" Mateo asked.

"You bet: she _adored_ the bastard," I confirmed, "Too bad _she _didn't marry him. Too bad _I_ did. I'm not going to make the mistake of listening to her advice on him--or anyone else--ever again. Once bitten, twice shy, as they say." I didn't think it was smart to tell Mateo that my mother was now pushing _another_ candidate on me; best he didn't have to worry about his friend Carlos' fiancée cheating on him with her mother's blessing!

"Well, I have to run some errands for my wife, so I'll say goodbye now," Mateo stood to leave, "Happy birthday, Stephanie! Have a wonderful day. And wear your bracelet in good health. I'll be in touch about the annulment."

"Thanks for handling that for me, Mateo! And thanks for delivering the charm bracelet and the note from Carlos! Don't forget about the sketches, OK?"

"I won't; I'll take care of it, I promise. Good to meet you, Mary Lou."

I walked him to the door, and as he was going out, Tina was coming in. I introduced them, and then Mateo took his leave. Tina of course had to be briefed on everything that had transpired, and she ooh'd and aah'd over the charm bracelet and the other special birthday gifts Carlos had arranged for me.

"He's not only gorgeous and sexy, he's romantic and thoughtful as well! Lucky Steph! Or should I say, _Boss_? Did Stevie tell you she got me a job, Mary Lou? I'm working as her Administrative Assistant starting Monday!"

"She told me: _congratulations_! Somehow I think Steph's going to be much more fun to work for than that witch Zelda Lebowitz!"

We made our way into the kitchen, where Tina poured herself a mug of coffee and helped herself to a jelly donut. I felt the need to keep her company--I was such a good hostess--and so another Boston cream quickly jumped into my hot little hand.

"Stevie a better boss than Zelda? Hah! That's for damned _sure_!" Tina laughed as we settled in around the table for another gab-fest, "I can't wait to get started! I can't believe I'm getting almost _twice_ the money, can you _believe_ it? And much better benefits, as well! Just goes to show what crooks EE Martin were. Speaking of---the FBI questioned me yesterday afternoon, _can you imagine_? They wanted to know if I'd ever seen Mr. Martin with Eugene Sipowitz or any of his cronies. I looked at a dozen or so mug shots. And they had a ton of _other _questions, too. I had to sign a statement and everything! I may even have to testify, they said. Not that I know anything all that major, mind you. But I need to verify that Edward Martin and Morton McFurtz were locked up for hours in his office all last week. And there's a chain of custody thing with the accounting records."

"OMIGOD! That's so exciting!" Mary Lou exclaimed.

"I know! I had WABC news waiting for me in my parking lot this morning. I just did the 'no comment, talk to the hand' thing, and they left me alone. But WOW, I never would have imagined that working for a company like EE Martin would be all that exciting. Trust me, Edward Martin is not exactly the most electrifying man in the world!"

"He wasn't the criminal mastermind type, or so I would have thought," I confirmed, "But that just goes to show you: you can't judge a book by its cover!"

"Did you hear about McFurtz? Turning Government witness?" Lou asked Tina, who nodded.

"It was the lead story this morning," Tina grinned at me, "First time all week Stevie and her birthday cake didn't even rate a mention."

"Technically, it's _Ted's_ birthday cake," I pointed out, "And I for one am delighted to see that I'm now old news! I only wish that _You Tube _would find someone else to immortalize! Why me?"

"Now you sound like your mother," Lou giggled.

"_Heaven forbid_," I shivered, and caught Tina up to date on events on the home front.

"She's still inviting Morelli to dinner?" Tina was outraged, "Knowing you're engaged to another man?"

"That's my mother," I sighed, "She wants what _she _wants--and if she keeps inviting him, she figures eventually I'll forget about Carlos and let Morelli charm the pants off me again. Ain't gonna happen, but my mother doesn't know that yet."

"Why does Morelli still keep coming around?" Tina questioned, "I mean, _come on_! You told him flat-out you weren't interested. You'd think---"

"She's a challenge," Mary Lou maintained firmly, "_That's _why! All the Morelli boys were like that! His brother Anthony is the same way! _Remember_, Steph? Maryanne Dioguardi broke it off with him in no uncertain terms, and got engaged to Paul like 6 months later. And Anthony kept coming around and trying to get her back, not taking no for an answer. It was some macho thing with him, same as it is with Joe! They're convinced they're God's gift to women. And telling them _no_ only gets them more determined to work harder until you say _yes_!"

"Well, Maryanne and Paul got married _anyway_, so clearly Anthony wasn't all that and a bag of chips," I replied, "And neither is Joe. I'm not that naïve 16 year old any longer, and he's _not _going to get a second chance to hook up with me. Even without Carlos in the picture, I _still_ wouldn't date a guy who treated me the way Joe Morelli treated me in high school. He's just damned lucky I'm still not in the mood to make him a hood ornament on my Nova!"

"Good for you, girl!" Tina cheered, "You hang tough! What do you say, ladies? Are we ready to get out shopping?"

We were, indeed. I tossed the dishes in the dishwasher, and gave Rex the last bit of my Boston cream. Picking up my dress bag, as well as a tote bag with fresh underwear and my newest FMPs, we made our way down to the parking lot. Because my POS car had been making very unhealthy noises, I climbed into Mary Lou's Accord and we motored off behind Tina on our way to the first of many bridal salons.

A few hours later, we'd made our way to Angelo's Bridal's outside the Burg. By this time I'd tried on dozens and dozens of dresses--or so it seemed--and I wasn't finding anything that I really loved. It was downright discouraging!

"I know what I want," I sighed, twirling around in front of the mirror in a perfectly lovely sheath gown with a beaded bodice, "And this isn't it. Not even close. I haven't seen anything even remotely like what I picture in my head."

"So we go to another salon," Tina said, "There are hundreds of them, Stevie! And we can always go on-line and look. Just because you haven't found it so far, doesn't mean you won't find it!"

"She's right," Mary Lou agreed, as I disappeared back into the dressing room to change my clothes. "This is only the first day, you've got months before you have to order anything. This was pretty much just to get ideas, anyway, right?"

"Right," I agreed, "And remember, we wanted to get some ideas for your dresses, too!"

"Did you decide on red or blue?" Tina questioned, as I emerged and joined them to look at the racks of bridesmaids' gowns.

"Blue for the bridesmaids, I think. So we don't have the problem of Melinda's red hair clashing with the dress. We can look for red dresses for you and Lou, since you're going to do the maid and matron of honor thing."

"OK, that works! What about this one? It's kinda pretty, don't you think?" Tina held a cherry-red chiffon dress aloft, and Mary Lou and I considered it carefully.

It was pretty, but nothing really special. I wanted _special_, not only for me, but also for my bridal party.

"Lou, what do you think?" I appealed to her.

"No offense, but that doesn't cut it for me," Mary Lou replied, "That's going to make my ass look like it's double the size."

"What about _this_ one?" Tina grabbed for another one, not offended in the least. "See how it's cut? You'll be fine in this, trust me!"

"I don't like the neckline," came the quick answer, "My boobs will be hanging out. Lenny'd stroke out if I wear that."

"I don't like it much, either. You know--they don't have a big selection in red here," I complained. "Maybe we need to look at other colors to find the style we like? Then we can check to see if it comes in red? What do you think?"

"I think we need to focus on finding _your _dress first," Mary Lou insisted, "Because we want to make sure we look like we're in the same ballpark, style-wise!"

"Yeah, I guess that makes more sense," I agreed, unhappily. "It's just that I can't seem to find the dress I want anywhere other than in my head! I _hate _that! I know _exactly_ what I want, damn it all! Why can't I _find_ it?"

"You will, Stevie, you will! Meantime I think we need to stop for lunch before we all get headaches," Tina decided, "Look-there's an _Applebee's _over there! Why don't we get off our feet, regroup and decide what to do next while we're eating?"

Food was _always_ a good idea! We trudged over to _Applebee's_, and before long we were strategizing anew over cheeseburgers and fries.

"I think before we go any further, maybe you should take that quiz about what style bride you are," Mary Lou suggested, "You know: the one in _Brides _magazine."

"What categories were they? Six of them, right? Glamorous, Modern, Bohemian, Romantic, Classy…" Tina munched on her fries.

"_Classic_, not Classy," I giggled.

"Right: it's to be hoped _all_ of them are classy," Mary Lou laughed.

"What-_ever_! What was the _other_ one, though? There were six of them, I'm pretty sure."

"Beach-something," I offered helpfully.

"Beach Casual," Mary Lou blurted, "That was it!"

"_That's_ out," Tina knew me well. "I don't see Stevie as the Modern sort, either."

"Or Bohemian," I drew up my nose in disapproval, "I don't want some wild-child, hippie thing. Not for my wedding. Nope, no way."

"You're supposed to take the quiz first, _that _sorts you into the right style," Mary Lou complained, "You're doing things completely backwards!"

"Is that a style?" Tina grinned, "Cause that's Stevie, all right: _Out Of the Box_!"

I fished around in my shoulder bag, dragging out a dog-eared copy of _Brides_ magazine, and started flipping my way through it until I got to the quiz in question. "Here it is. _Find Your Style Quiz_."

"Now we're cookin'," Mary Lou crowed, "Here, let me have that. I'll ask you the questions!"

"Bossy much, aren't we?" I rolled me eyes, handing over the magazine. "Here you go--knock yourself out, Lou!"

"'What is your favorite romantic movie? _Out of Africa; Roman Holiday; To Catch A Thief; Somewhere In Time_.'"

"Considering the first two end unhappily--one with the hero crashing his plane and dying, and the other with the Princess giving up the man she loves--" I complained.

"Will you pick one, please?" Mary Lou gave me an eye-roll right back.

"Those are my _only_ choices?" I huffed.

"Tick, tick," Tina pointed to her watch, "Can we have an answer in our lifetime?"

"Cary Grant or Christopher Reeve? Cary Grant," I decided.

"_To Catch A Thief_." Tina translated. "Next?"

"'Your ideal date is: a pottery class---'"

"Get real," I snorted. "_Pottery _class?"

"I didn't _write_ it, I'm just _reading_ it," Mary Lou defended herself, "'Opening night tickets to the opera; Dinner at an Asian fusion restaurant; a picnic on the sand.'"

"Those are the only choices?" I sighed, disappointed, "What about rolling around in bed getting hot and sweaty?"

"Clearly Stevie ain't going to be the Classy type," Tina teased.

"_Classic_." Mary Lou corrected her archly.

"What-_evah_. If she can't have the steamy sex, she'll take the food. Right, girl?"

"Right," I confirmed. "Next?"

"'Where is the ideal setting for your wedding? A Country Club; the beach at sunset'--"

"They _are _pushing that Beach Casual, aren't they?" Tina interjected.

"'A grand castle or villa; a loft or penthouse'."

"Gee, no VFW hall?" I giggled, "My mother will be _crushed_. I'll take the grand castle or villa. Followed by lots of hot sweaty sex, please."

"'What are three words that best describe the feel of your wedding? Dreamy, emotional, magical; Well-executed, detailed, sophisticated'---"

"Sounds more like a military plan than a wedding," Tina pointed out.

"'Eclectic, earthy, festive; or Lux, opulent, glitzy.' Well?"

"Dreamy, emotional and magical," I decided.

"'Define your sense of style in one word: Streamlined; casual; Boho; girlie.'"

"_Definitely_ girlie," I replied, "With a capital G."

"So far you're all over the map in terms of style," Tina complained, "Except for Beach Casual, thank God!"

"'Your favorite fabric is: Leather'---"

"Woo Hoo! Get down, get kinky!" Tina chortled, pumping her fist.

"Will you _stop_?" Mary Lou gave her a stern look, and we all burst out laughing.

"Does that look actually work with Michelle?" I wondered.

"Nope. Just with Lenny," she replied, cheekily. "'Fur; tweed'---"

"_Tweed_? A tweed wedding gown?" I scoffed, "Thanks but _no_!"

"That's not for the gown, it's for the feel of your style," Mary Lou corrected me. "And the last one is lace."

"No silk?" I was beyond disappointed. "I'll take _lace_, then."

"'For an evening out with friends, your go-to item of clothing is: Skinny gray jeans; silk ruffled blouse'---see, _there's _your silk!"

"I'm still on the gray jeans," I shivered. "I get they're well-washed, but _still_---"

"'Cashmere shell; or sequined tank.'"

"I'll take the sequined tank. I'm not wearing any gray jeans."

"Are we finished yet?" Tina whined.

"Does it sound like we're finished? 'Your most treasured piece of jewelry is: Grandma's heirloom cameo or locket; Oversized wood beaded necklace'---"

"EEEEEUUUUU," both Tina and I howled in protest.

"'Gemstone cocktail ring; or Leather cord bracelet.'"

"That's my choices? How about _none_ of them?"

"You have to pick one," Mary Lou demanded.

"Fine. Grandma's heirloom _whatever_….."

"'Who is your fashion icon? Audrey Hepburn; Sienna Miller'---"

"Who's Sienna Miller?" I honestly had no clue.

"'Gwen Stefani; or Jennifer Aniston.'"

"A fashion _icon_? Aren't they supposted to be long-standing? Gwen or Jennifer? Are they kidding me?" I shook my head unhappily, "This quiz is so _bogus_!"

"She'll take Audrey Hepburn for $1,000, Alex," Tina said, gesturing for Mary Lou to wrap it up. "Are we there yet?"

"'Your favorite cocktail is: Pina colada; Merlot or chardonnay; champagne; or Ginger-infused martini.'"

"Martini, hold the ginger," I thought of my chocolate martinis and how I'd met Carlos, and got a goofy look on my face.

"She's thinking of _The Man _again," Tina chuckled, indulgently.

"Does she ever _not_ think of him?" Mary Lou replied, "'What is your favorite way to entertain? A dinner party for eight; A potluck gathering; A fondue party'---"

"Are they _insane_? A fondue party? Who the hell has a _fondue_ party?" I scoffed.

"Sienna Miller, probably," Tina hooted.

"'And a clambake'," Mary Lou finished.

"Still pushing that damned Beach Casual, I see," I snickered. "That's _it_? No 'call out for pizza'?"

"Did I read that as one of the choices?"

"Fine! Gimme the damned _pot luck gathering _then. With pizza."

"'What is your dream vacation? A private and exclusive island; Paris or Rome in the Spring; An eco-lodge in South America; or A rustic cottage by the sea.'"

"The private island."

"OK, that's it. I'm going to count up the points…." Mary Lou tabulated the results and then announced solemnly, "_Congratulations_! 'You're a Romantic bride. You've spent a lifetime dreaming of your prince, the castle, the fairy-tale ending. Your closet of frilly confections celebrates your feminine side.'"

"I'm not doing the frou-frou frilly princess gown again," I protested. "No way in hell! That's a bogus quiz. None of it fit my personality!"

"Well, you _are_ designing sexy lingerie now," Tina pointed out, "So _that_ part of the quiz is right: you _do _have frilly confections--just not in your closet, they're all in your underwear drawer!"

"That's true," Mary Lou agreed, "Besides, you didn't want to be Bohemian, Beach Classic or Modern, right? That left Romantic, Glamorous and Classic. So, you combine a little of one, a little of the other, and you design the perfect Stephanie Plum wedding!"

"I could do that," I agreed, pacified, "Just as long as I'm on the record: I'm not doing the Dickie Orr nightmare again."

"I hearby promise to physically prevent you from selecting any dress that even remotely resembles your first wedding gown," Mary Lou held her hand to the sky, and Tina joined her. "See how we love you? We're taking solemn oaths not to let you go there again."

"You just don't want to be in that same peach tulle horror you were when you stood up for me," I shot back, unimpressed.

"That too," Mary Lou giggled. "Well? We finished here?"

We were. And moments later we were back on the road again, searching for the perfect gown, the illusive vision I carried in my head. I was determined to find it--and I would! After all, I had months and months before I could take my vows and become Mrs. Stephanie Manoso!


	57. Chapter 57

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

Chapter 57

By the time we rolled into _Rosa's_ at quarter after 7 that evening, we were dressed to the nines and still in full bridal planning mode. I'd tried on more gowns than I could possibly count; and _Brides_ magazine survey or not, I was sticking clear with my vision for the wedding dress. Romantic, yes. But no princess gown! That held too many unhappy memories for me!

"We have a reservation for 7:30. _Minardo_, party of three," Tina gave our name to the hostess and we waited to be seated.

"I don't see Papa anywhere around," I scanned the dining room, "I suppose his son Alejandro is still sick with the flu? That means Papa's going to be in the kitchen all night! Hopefully he'll come out later, so I can introduce you to him. He's really very nice. And like I said, he's known Carlos since he was very young."

"Good suggestion that we come here, Stevie!" Tina approved, "I've never been in here before. It's a big restaurant--it's practically a whole city block long! And the food smells delicious!"

"This is a _gorgeous_ restaurant, all right," Mary Lou noted, "It's going to be the perfect place for your reception, Steph! Look: there's even a little terrace off the back! You'll be able to have the cocktail hour outside in the garden, since the wedding is in June!"

"That's exactly what I was figuring, Lou. I was picturing how lovely it would look with those twinkling white lights in the trees, and the band playing."

"They're a fabulous choice, too," Tina admitted, as we were led to our table. "Everyone is out on the floor dancing! That's going to make it _so_ easy for you, you know: you've got your venue, you have the band and you have your florist already decided on. You're _so_ ahead of the game!"

"It only makes sense to book the florist Carlos used, right?" I beamed, having made that decision earlier, "You saw them: the roses he sent were breathtakingly beautiful. And that way, Carlos will essentially have picked out the florist--so it's like he and I are planning the wedding together!"

"Plus, they're in Newark," Mary Lou piped up, "And that means _you-know-who _won't get a chance to muck up the works, the way she would if you planned this in the Burg."

"Exactly," I nodded, "I'm going to have to find a church in Newark, too. Maybe Mateo can recommend one."

"Why not just go with the best?" Tina piped up, as we ordered a round of Mojitos. "You've been passing Sacred Heart Cathedral Basilica for years on the way to work. It's only 10 minutes or so away from here, over on Ridge Street. It's like the fifth-largest cathedral in the U.S., I think. Remember you've always said you wondered what it looked like inside? Here's your chance to find out, Stevie!"

"Omigod! That's perfect!" I said, thrilled, "It's the most stunning-looking church I've ever seen-- from the outside, at least. I'm betting it's even _more_ gorgeous inside, don't you think? It's French gothic. And I can already picture how it'll look to have the military crossed swords arch outside the door, can't you?"

"It's going to be fabulous, girl! And it's right next to Branch Brook park, so you can have your wedding pictures taken there, if you want to!" Tina suggested.

"Yes, that's a great idea," Mary Lou interjected, "It's a beautiful park--same designer as Manhattan's Central Park, did you know that? And that way you can get some really stunning shots with the Cathedral Basilica in the background! Hopefully the weather will cooperate."

"That's _another_ reason to hold it in June, not April," I said, "Less chance of April showers that way. Although I admit that I'll miss the cherry blossoms we'd get if we did it in April."

"True, but better you plan for June and get the best weather. In April, for all you know, you could end up with snow!" Tina pointed out, "The weather is _crazy _these days!"

"For sure! Did I tell you I spoke to my sister, and she's okayed Mary Alice and Angie being flower girls, along with Michelle?"

We were examining our menus by this point, and I was trying to decide just what I'd try this time around. I wanted to sample a few other items than I'd tasted before, at least for the entrees. So we agreed to each order something different, and then share with each other. Everything sounded delicious, and both Mary Lou and Tina were having a hard time deciding--as was I. We were all hungry, and I knew damned well how good the food was. But that didn't make it any easier to order!

Our Mojitos arrived, and Mary Lou raised a toast to me and Carlos, and a long and happy marriage between us. Not to be outdone, Tina did the same. We clinked glasses. Then we finally ordered our dinner, and sat back to chat again.

"So, is Val going to be a bridesmaid?" Mary Lou asked me.

"_No--_would you believe she said she was 'too stressed-out emotionally' to try to pretend to be happy at anyone's wedding, even mine."

"She actually _said _that?" Tina was irate on my behalf, "She's your frickin' _sister_, for crying out loud! She's supposed to be grateful she was even asked, not diss you like she couldn't be bothered! _Honestly_! Talk about _rude_!"

"That's Valerie for you," Mary Lou sighed, "Sole resident of her own little world: Valerie-land. No one else need apply."

"Yep--I'd suspected it from the last time I spoke with her, but now I know for sure her marriage to Steve is in big trouble. She sounded completely _miserable_, but she didn't want to talk about it. She just said she wasn't able to do the bridesmaid thing, and then she changed the subject. _Whatever_."

"Screw her, then!" Tina muttered, "Sorry, Stevie! I know she's your sister--but _come on now_? She can't suck it up and try to be happy for you for one single afternoon?"

"Nope, that's just the way she is, Tina. Self-absorbed to the max--just like my mother. It's no wonder why they get along so famously: everything is about _them_! But truth be told, I'm just as happy she said no. I mean, can you honestly see her kicking up her heels and having a great time at the bachelorette party you guys are going to throw for me?"

"Miss Priss? _Hell to the no_!" Mary Lou agreed, "Plus we go back to the _other _thing: keeping your wedding plans safe from your mother's sabotage. With Valerie in the wedding, your mother has a direct pipe-line in. And she'd _use_ it, too."

"Don't think _that_ happy little thought didn't cross my mind about a million times," I noted, "So that's _another_ reason I wasn't really looking forward to having Val participate. To say nothing about how big a pain-in-the-ass she'd be picking out the gowns. And everything else, for that matter."

"Her taste always ran exactly opposite to yours," Mary Lou nodded, "So we'd have her critiquing every last choice you made, and running back to your mother for support. Then they'd both be pressuring you to change every last detail. Tag-teaming you. Until finally all the fun of planning your own wedding would be gone."

"Well, they could _try_ doing that," I snorted, taking a sip from my glass as I looked around the room, "But this is the new and improved Stephanie Plum we're talking about here, remember? With my Wonder Woman bracelet--courtesy of _the_ most romantic man in the entire world." I jingled my charm proudly.

"_Mrs. Stephanie Manoso_," Tina teased, "How many times have you practiced writing that--honestly?"

"About a hundred." I grinned like a fool, "Is it so obvious?"

"What? That you're head over heels in love with your man? Ummmm--let me think. _Yes_!" Mary Lou gave me an indulgent look, "But having seen his pictures, I can perfectly understand why, Steph! The man is seriously sexy. And totally gorgeous."

"And _very_ romantic," I sighed, "Honestly, can you imagine? He's shipping out overseas, and what does he do? Order roses for my birthday--27 perfect red roses! And that 'I Love You' teddy bear he picked out is so cute, cute, cute! And then he adds _Godiva_ chocolates to the order! And as if all _that _weren't enough, then he has his friend Mateo stop by this morning to deliver a charm bracelet and a specially-designed Wonder Woman charm! I mean, the man makes all other men pale in comparison to him!"

"Even the best ass in Trenton?" Tina teased, using Morelli's long-time nickname.

"Best ass in Trenton? _Morelli_? Wait! You mean, the _biggest_ ass in Trenton," I scoffed. "Joe Morelli can't hold a candle to my Carlos! They aren't even in the same league!"

"Good thing Carlos got you the _Godiva_ chocolate basket," Mary Lou reminded me, "Because you're not getting dessert from your mother any time soon with that nasty attitude of yours, Missy! She's never going to quit pushing Morelli at you--"

"And she can _keep on_ pushing him, for all I care--until she finally keels over in exhaustion. I'm not interested in any man but my Carlos--and the sooner she gets that through her thick skull, the better. I'm not backing down on this, either. And I'm not sharing the dinner table with Joe Morelli again. _Ever_. By hook or by crook. And that's that!"

"You tell her, Stevie!" Tina hooted.

"Joe frickin'-ass Morelli, be damned!" I was on a roll now, "He can take his '_Cupcakes are yummy_' and shove it where the sun don't shine. Who the hell calls a woman 'Cupcake', anyway? Moron!"

"This coming from a total Babe," Tina laughed.

"Hey! Did I tell you that's what I'm going to call my lingerie line for Dawson? _'Babe'_! In honor of Carlos' nickname for me. I've been busy too--I've got a few more designs all sketched out, and I can't wait to get started Monday."

"Wait! Weren't you going to take a week off?" Mary Lou asked, as our appetizers arrived, and we took a few moments to get them sorted on our plates so that we could share. "Did you change your mind?"

"Yeah--I sort of had to. When they closed EE Martin, that left poor Tina here out of a job. So I decided to make do with the few days off I had, and then start with Dawson on Monday."

"Poor Tina is right! My depleted bank account and I thank you," Tina sighed.

"_De nada_, that's what friends are for."

"Do you know that woman over there, Steph? She's been staring at you non-stop for the last 10 minutes," Mary Lou leaned over and whispered to me, sotto voice.

I gave a surreptitious look, seeing an elderly Hispanic woman at the next table with two other women, all of them about my grandmother's age. "Nope, I never saw her before in my life, Lou. God, I hope she hasn't recognized me from those damned news reports!"

"Probably she has," Mary Lou commiserated, "After all, it's highly unlikely that she's seen your world-famous _You Tube_ video, don't you think?"

"I suppose. Speaking of _You Tube_: did I tell you I have over a quarter of a million hits on that damned thing already? The whole EE Martin FBI raid made it even more popular, once they found out that I was the notorious 'cake lady' from the parking lot."

"Stevie's getting asked for her autograph now, did she tell you?"

"You're _kidding_ me!"

"No, Lou, she's not! Seriously! I've signed like a _dozen _autographs already! And posed for pictures, too! Some people have too much time on their hands, that's all I can say. _Way_ too much time on their hands!"

"Did your mother actually get to see the video finally, Stevie? I know you were saying she was getting tons of phone calls about it."

"Yeah, she saw it. Unfortunately. She was mortified, naturally. But I guess when your daughter is known world-wide on _You Tube _as 'hot lingerie babe on desk raps her notice', it kind of is understandable you'd be not too thrilled, though."

"It's not like _you_ uploaded the video, Stevie!"

"No, but I should have figured _someone_ would."

"You know what? _To hell with it! _You gave that old battle-ax Zelda a well-deserved middle finger salute! I, for one, am glad you did!"

"Me, too! And I'm glad I got to see it in person: _You Tube _alone doesn't do it justice!" Mary Lou confessed, "The FBI raid, though--that was priceless! I'd never have seen that one coming in a million years."

"You know what? I had the weirdest feeling something was off around there, Lou. I just couldn't put my finger on what, though. My spidey sense told me _something _was hinky! I just never expected the Feds to swoop in and close the place down for money-laundering."

"Neither did I, Stevie," Tina confessed, "Although I knew something was up with all those closed door meetings with the partners and their attorneys and little old rabbit-boy McFurtz."

"Yeah, but remember, we were thinking more like they were going to start laying people off. Not that they were going to get laid off _themselves_!"

"Good thing you had already taken that job with Dawson Books! That was great timing, Steph."

"The best, Lou. But honestly--I wouldn't have had the courage to say yes to his offer without Carlos' encouragement. He just made me realize that I wasn't living my life the way I wanted to. He reminded me to fly. If I hadn't met him that Friday in the bar, and taken the chance to open up my mouth and get to know him, none of this would ever have happened!"

We'd finished our appetizers by now, and were back to talking about my favorite subjects again: Carlos and the wedding!

"So? What do you say: I'm thinking we just scratch the red dress idea for you two, and we go with a lighter shade of blue instead? I didn't see any shade of red on any style of dress that knocked me out."

"Me, either," Mary Lou agreed. "They were either too in-your-face red or more like a brick shade. Neither flatters my ruddy complexion, unfortunately."

"Blue totally works for me," Tina agreed, "You can always get the red in by using red roses for the bouquets."

"And you have three flower girls," Mary Lou pointed out, "So you do the red, white and blue rose petals there. And red boutonnières for the men. You could even bring the red in as the color of the aisle runner, if you want! And decorate with red flowers in the church, you know? So you have your theme covered that way."

"Good idea! You know what else I'm going to do? I'm _soooooooo_ evil!"

"Spill, sister! The more evil you get, the better I like it!" Mary Lou encouraged.

"Stevie, you treacherous little minx! What have you got planned?"

"I'm going to pull an Ellen Plum on Ellen Plum, _that's_ what I'm going to do! I'm not going to risk her messing up my patriotic theme by showing up in a neon yellow gown. Or some other perfectly hideous shade like Kiwi or Mango. Which she would."

"In a heartbeat," Mary Lou confirmed.

"_Bitch_." Tina looked pissed. "So what are you going to do, take her shopping yourself?"

"_Hell, no_! She'd just go back and pick out another dress behind my back. I know her. She's sneaky, my mother. _Very_ sneaky."

"So what are you going to do?" Tina pressed.

"I'm going to buy her a dress of _my_ choice and have it ready for her in the hotel where we're getting dressed. Shoes, bag, the whole nine yards. In _my_ taste. _My_ color choice. And I'll arrange for her own dress to go mysteriously missing--so she'll have no other choice but to wear mine! _Ta-dah_!"

"Your Dad will help you out on that plan; so will your Grandma Mazur," Mary Lou approved, "_Brilliant_! Devious as hell. But brilliant!"

"Thank you! Thank you! I thought so," I took a bow, happily. "And I'm going to pick out a dress for Grandma Mazur too. Or God knows _what_ the hell she'd show up in."

"There _is_ that," Mary Lou laughed. "She'd come in a sequined micro-mini, probably. Hot pink, of course. Your grandmother is a real character, Steph!"

"She is, for sure!" I smiled, "But I love her dearly: she'll never settle for conformity! I'm going to find her a _fabulous _dress, and she's going to love it! And I'm going to use Nikki and Heather, from Stella's wedding. We can do the same thing we did for her wedding: take rooms in the Hilton and party all weekend!"

"Works for me!" Mary Lou exclaimed, happily. "I'll keep June 2010 free!"

"You know what, Stevie? That woman over there at the next table is still staring at you," Tina lowered her voice. "Her friends keep yapping a mile a minute in Spanish and she keeps having to get poked to get with the conversation. She _definitely_ recognizes you from the news, Stevie. Maybe you'll be signing more autographs again tonight!"

"How embarrassing," I sighed, giving the woman a polite smile. I was stunned when she smiled back widely. "She seems nice, though." And she did. In fact, she kind of reminded me of someone, but I was too distracted to think about who….

Our entrees chose this time to make their arrival, and before long we were devoting ourselves to the pleasures of eating. Papa was an excellent chef, for sure! I moaned in enjoyment, growing louder with each succulent mouthful of the _Chuletas de Puerco_, which were grilled pork chops marinated in garlic with seasoned grilled onions, and served with Moro rice and fried sweet plantains. Tina had ordered _Pollo Asado_, which was a seasoned roasted half chicken marinated in lemon juice, garlic, white wine and light tomato Cuban Creole sauce. Mary Lou had gone with _Bistec a la Milanesa_, which was Cuban breaded steak topped with marinara sauce and melted mozzarella cheese. We tasted each others' choices and it was honestly impossible to decide which dish was more delicious!

We argued among ourselves over which dishes should make the wedding menu, and I was reminded that I hadn't seen Papa all night. I was assuming he was in the kitchen; but, for all I knew, he himself had come down with the same stomach bug Alejandro had. It wasn't like Papa not to make an appearance out on the floor: the man loved to gab with guests, from what I'd seen. He had the perfect personality for a restaurateur, for sure.

"Do you have a ballpark figure for how many people you're inviting to the wedding, Stevie?"

"Well, Carlos said he has a big family. And so do I, between the Plums and the Mazurs. Since I got the new job at Dawson's company, I can afford to throw a big wedding and pay for it myself. It's going to be my surprise wedding gift to Carlos! I'm figuring like 300 people or so, maybe more! I'm going to invite everyone I can think of: lots of friends from work, friends from the Burg, and of course family. And Carlos will have his family and friends as well as lots of his Army buddies there, too. We'll have everyone we know invited to the celebration!"

"Including my Lester," interjected Tina, "Don't forget, Carlos is hooking me up with his hot friend."

"I didn't forget, and neither will Carlos," I assured her, winking at Mary Lou, "Tina's desperate for a hook-up."

"Yeah, well--I'm desperate for _something_," she grinned, "I want a hot Cuban guy like Stevie landed for herself."

"Lester may be hot, and he's definitely Cuban, but _no one _matches my Carlos," I opined.

"Oh, now you've gone and done it! You've got her rhapsodizing about _The Man _again," Mary Lou teased, "She'll be no good for anything else from here on in."

"I can't help it if I'm in love," I protested, "And you met him, Tina. Be completely honest. Is Carlos Manoso not the hottest, sexiest man on the planet, bar none?"

"He is definitely that," my friend agreed, "He looks gorgeous in the photos, Mary Lou, but I swear, when you see him in person….."

"_Really_?" Mary Lou sighed. "Ten times more gorgeous in person?"

"Ten thousand," Tina admitted. "If Stevie wasn't my best friend, I'd hate her with a burning passion."

"That hot, huh?" Mary Lou whistled, "WOW! And to think, you met him by accident in a hotel bar."

"I picked him up," I grinned, "Bold as brass. Stephanie Plum, Sex Goddess Extraordinaire!"

"That doesn't count technically as a pick-up," Tina argued, "You didn't intentionally set out to pick him up, after all. You just blurted out how hot he was--and he agreed with you."

"He did not." I giggled, "Carlos isn't vain."

"It's not _vanity_, sweetie! It's _honesty_," Tina grinned, "You told him you were interested in boinking him and he took you up on it. I'm just surprised you got the words out and didn't slink off in mortification a minute later."

"I agree with Tina. You aren't exactly the type of woman who could ever pick up a man in a bar, Steph," Mary Lou patted my hand indulgently, "Although you do get major props for taking the lead this weekend. Wonder Woman would be proud!"

"I smashed right into him," I shrugged, "Literally. So hey, I took the perfect opportunity to get a close up view. And then my mouth opened up and that was that."

"That and the chocolate martinis," Tina reminded me. "Don't forget them."

"_Exactly_--I'd have been way too shy to say anything if I hadn't had a few of them in me."

"You and those chocolate martinis of yours," Mary Lou sighed, "You can't hold your liquor worth a damn, Steph. You never could."

"I know. One drink is totally my limit. But God, they do taste _good_!"

The bus boy came over to our table to take our plates: we'd finished everything! Looks like Rex was out of luck tonight: there would be no hamster-bag coming home with me! Oh, well. I'd give him a few grapes and a carrot stick and lessen my guilt at being a bad hamster Mommy.

"We're having dessert, aren't we?" I protested when I saw Tina wave to the waiter.

"You want _dessert_?" cracked Tina, "You? The one with the huge _Godiva_ chocolate basket waiting for her at home?"

"That's at _home_, though," I pointed out reasonably, "I'm _here_. And you bet I want dessert! I'm not leaving without it, either!"

Just then I saw the door to the kitchen open, and Papa (who was indeed our chef again tonight) made his way towards our table. I smiled a welcome--then was stunned to see him stop instead at the table of elderly women next to us. I watched as he leaned down to the Hispanic woman who'd been staring at me all night, and he gave her a loving smile and an affectionate kiss. He hadn't seen me, clearly. No matter! I'd call to him when he finished chatting with his guests: it appeared they were getting ready to leave, after all.

Just then, our waiter approached, taking me by surprise with a birthday cake glowing with 27 candles. I gave Tina an 'oh no you didn't' glare, but she ignored my mock-outrage, and launched into an off-key if earnest rendition of 'Happy Birthday'. Mary Lou joined in, as did the waiter and some people from surrounding tables.

"Happy birthday, dear Stephanie! Happy birthday to you!" The song concluded with a round of applause from my friends and some patrons as well.

I saw the look of complete shock on Papa's face when he looked over and spotted me, and then I saw him look down at the elderly woman in what appeared to be distress. _Surely not? _The woman smiled beatifically and gestured to our table. Papa gave her a measured look, then slowly walked over to greet us.

"Welcome, ladies! Happy birthday, Estefanía! I had no idea you would be gracing us with your lovely presence tonight!"

Smiling, I introduced him to Tina and Mary Lou, and they complemented him on his restaurant and on his mouth-wateringly good food. He was more nervous than I had ever seen him, and he kept trying to position himself so as to block the other table from our view--or, now that I think of it, more like the other way around!

"Alejandro is still sick, I see?"

"Alas, for my son, yes. The bug has him down for the count, it seems. But I am enjoying my time in the kitchen again, so I confess to encouraging him to extend his sick leave."

"Give him my best wishes for a complete recovery, Papa!"

"I shall, I promise. I see that you have made the news, Estefanía! That was indeed you in the parking lot of the Mafia-owned company, yes? The one that the Federal authorities closed down this past week?"

"That was me, all right," I sighed, "I worked as a buyer for EE Martin. And both of my friends were there too. I'd just quit my job when the raid began!" Thankfully, Papa hadn't mentioned seeing the damned _You Tube _video--so naturally I didn't bring it up!

"A-ha! I _knew_ it! I saw you with your cake and I thought, 'this woman, she is very joyful, despite all of the chaos that surrounds her'. This I knew to be the lovely Estefanía!"

"Well…I had birthday cake," I shrugged--as if that explained _everything_!

"Indeed! I think that your new business venture comes at a perfect time for you, yes?"

"_Definitely_ yes, Papa! I start on Monday--and my friend Tina will be working with me."

"Best wishes to you both! And again, a very happy birthday, Estefanía! I shall tell Alejandro that you send greetings and get well wishes to him. He will be sorry to have missed you!"

He walked back over to the table from which he'd come, and I noticed the woman who'd been staring at me say something to him. Papa shook his head firmly, and there appeared to be a minor disagreement going on between them. Then the woman's two companions stood, and the trio slowly moved to the door as Papa signaled the bus boy to clear the table. I watched the ladies collect their coats, and was again surprised to see that my fan club of one was openly beaming at me. I smiled back, and gave an awkward finger-wave. By then Papa had disappeared back into the kitchen, and we began enjoying our cake.

Moments later, I felt a presence by my side, and looked up. It was the woman, a mischievous glint in her eye that reminded me of Grandma Mazur when she was up to no good!

"¡Cumpleaños feliz, mi niña! Puede usted ser bendito siempre." (_Happy birthday, my child. May you be blessed always_.)

I opened my mouth to speak, but in an instant she was gone! "What in the world was _that_ all about?" I asked, appealing to my two companions in bewilderment.

Tina translated the woman's greeting for me, and I noticed the waiter returning with our check. "Excuse me? Could you tell me who that woman was, please? The one who just left our table?"

"Ah! That was Rosa, the owner's mother." Our waiter delivered the bill to Tina, who slipped her charge card into the leather wallet. "This restaurant was opened by her late husband Alejandro, it bears her name."

OMIGOD! _Rosa! _I almost died in embarrassment: this was the woman who'd spotted Carlos and me having sex in the parking lot on Sunday night! The one who'd known him since he was a baby! And I was more than willing to bet that somehow she'd recognized me--and not from the news, either!

_Why me? _

For once, I knew exactly how my mother felt!


	58. Chapter 58

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshow, just go to my Profile for the links. Hope you enjoy!_

_A/N: As in previous chapters, please assume that Abuela Rosa is speaking Spanish, not English, to her girlfriends. No one knows that Rosa is fluent in English--no one, that is, but Carlito! And he's too far away to warn anyone!_

Chapter 58

_Abuela Rosa's POV_

My late husband Alejandro--_God rest his soul_--used to tell me all the time, "You have to work hard for anything you want in life, Rosa. It's never going to be handed to you on a silver platter." Well, for certain, I've never been the kind of woman who was afraid of hard work. And this past week--since I'd discovered that my beloved Carlito was in love with a young woman called Stephanie Mazur--I'd been working harder than ever, to no avail.

_Naturally_, I wanted to learn everything I could about this blue-eyed curly-haired brunette who had my taciturn grandson walking on air, smiling and laughing as never before. After seeing them at _Rosa's_ almost a week ago--indoors and out--I'd been sure that they were a perfect match for each other. Stephanie made my Carlito happy; I wanted that for him above all else. That they loved each other deeply I had no doubt: it was in their eyes for all the world to see. That there was passion blazing there was also beyond question. But Carlito would be gone for the next 18 months; Stephanie, poor child, would be alone. Would she be true to my grandson, as my intuition told me? Or, unthinkably, would she break his heart by finding some other man to love? I _had_ to know the answer! And to find that answer, I had to know more about this Stephanie Mazur!

Therein lay my dilemma. I'd exhausted every possible avenue of inquiry for the past 6 days. I'd devoted hour upon hour to my mission: listening at doors whenever my son Ricardo spoke with Alejandro or with Mateo; questioning that old fool Manuel Munoz, who managed the Hilton Hotel where my Carlito had stayed the weekend; taking a taxicab to the library to pour through phone directories of every county in New Jersey looking for a Stephanie Mazur; calling more _S. Mazur's _than I could count, only to be told that I hadn't reached the woman I sought. It was as if I were chasing a ghost! As if this Stephanie Mazur did not exist!

I was discouraged, of course. Who wouldn't be? But I was resolute in my determination to find this young woman. I had 18 months during which I could make her acquaintance, develop a good relationship with her. Offer her the emotional support she would undoubtedly need while her lover was in harm's way. I could make my Carlito happy by ensuring that his woman was cared for while he was gone. I would regale her with stories of Carlos as a child, share photos of him through the years. Make certain that no other opportunistic men tried to--what is the saying?--make time with her! Yes, I was determined to do all of the things that a loving abuela would do for her grandson and his chosen woman! These things the males in the family would never think to do. They were only men, after all! Women think from the heart, and thus I knew that my presence in Stephanie Mazur's life was necessary.

Still, after another fruitless day playing detective, I had to eat, didn't I? It was, after all, Saturday evening. As we always did on Saturday, my long-time friends Nina Valdez and Maria Lecuona and I met for dinner at our usual table in _Rosa's_. It was our weekly girls' night out, and I normally looked forward to them. But tonight, I wasn't really as excited. My mind was on other more important matters, after all: the mystery of Stephanie Mazur took preeminence.

My grandson Alejandro was still under the weather from a virus that his young children had brought home from school. That meant that my son Ricardo was in the restaurant's kitchen tonight, no doubt driving everyone crazy with his short temper and impossibly high standards. I wondered if he ever remembered that he'd always wanted to be a painter when he grew up? Probably not. I suspected that his enormous ego would have required being a _famous_ artist, otherwise he would have not been happy in the profession. But, no matter. He had chosen his life, and he had made a success of it, from all outward appearances. Whether or not he was truly happy inside, only he knew. Still, a mother always wants the best for her son, doesn't she? Even if her son has forgotten the way, as I suspected that mine had. Alas, I could do nothing to change that, so I'd finally given up even trying.

We'd placed our orders for dinner and were making small talk about our families. Then Fortune smiled upon me in such a way that I knew that a visit to church to light candles in honor of St. Anne, the patron saint of abuelas, was in order. For there, in the flesh--no ghost at all--was the woman I recognized from Sunday night. There was the mysterious Stephanie Mazur! I watched as she and her two girlfriends were led to the table directly next to mine. Ah, yes! I thought again of my late husband's words, and smiled. _This time, Alejandro, it was finally handed to me on a silver platter! _And I would make the most of the opportunity, that was certain! I believe it was the last I actually heard of my two friends' conversation that night--I had other things to occupy my thoughts!

I adjusted my chair so that I could hear most of the talk from the next table without difficulty. I was delighted to discover that all three girls were excited, and thus their chatter was louder than it might otherwise have been. I would have no difficulty at all in eavesdropping on their conversation. And no guilt, either: I was, after all, putting my Carlito's needs before my own! He would have wanted me to look after his lovely young woman! He and I had a special bond; and therefore I would be there for him and his Stephanie.

The first thing I picked up on was that they had spent the day shopping in a number of stores, and had come away with nothing. Yet, surprisingly, they didn't seem discouraged! No, quite the contrary, it seemed: Stephanie was bubbly and smiling happily. Not what I'd expected, with her lover gone so recently! I frowned, wondering what to make of this unexpected development. Her friends, whose names I learned were Tina and Mary Lou, were apparently hosting Stephanie tonight because it was her birthday--she was 27 today. _Ah! _That explained the shopping trip and the light-hearted atmosphere: they were no doubt devoting themselves to cheering her up while Carlito was gone. This was good: she had close friends to surround her, to give her emotional support through the difficult times ahead. But, I argued, she would still need an older, wiser woman. She would still need _me_! And now, thanks to the intercession of St. Anne, I would be there!

I was happily ignoring my own friends while listening to Stephanie and hers, and it seemed that somehow I'd missed answering a direct question that Maria had asked me. I blinked, and was annoyed to discover that it was harder to be a detective in real life than it seemed in the films! I gave a quick, distracted reply to her repeated question, and then was relieved when Nina took over the conversation so that I could again resume my eavesdropping. But no! Eavesdropping sounds so---impolite. As if one shouldn't be doing so. I wasn't, after all, being _nosy_. Not at all! I was simply acting in my Carlito's best interests, as I said. There was nothing I could be faulted for by doing that. And obviously, St. Anne had agreed with me, or otherwise she would never have given me this wondrous opportunity!

It was only a few moments later that I'd heard the news that had sent my heart soaring: Carlito had actually proposed to Stephanie before leaving for his dangerous mission overseas! My Carlito had chosen his novia, and left her to plan the wedding for his return! I was so happy that it was all I could do not to run over to her table and give my future granddaughter-in-law a big hug. But no. I couldn't very well do _that_, now could I? I was still in detective mode, after all! If I revealed myself too early, I would miss the opportunity to uncover important information. Which I did, moments later.

Stephanie was chattering to her friends that she was planning on thwarting her mother's attempts at sabotaging the wedding by holding it in Newark, rather than the Burg. _The Burg? _Where was this place? I had never before now heard of a place called the Burg, and I'd lived in New Jersey since I was a teen-age bride. I needed to get to the library again, and look up this town. I wondered how far away it was from Newark, and who I could find to drive me there in order to make inquiries about this mother of Stephanie's. This woman I didn't care for at all! Sabotaging her daughter's wedding? What kind of woman would do that? Most importantly, how dare this mother think my Carlito unworthy of her daughter?

_Wait! _This brought up additional unwelcome questions in my mind: had this mother actually met Carlito? I'd assumed that he and Stephanie had just met over the weekend, that it had been a recent relationship. After all, Carlos had only just returned from his previous mission--there was no time to have a long-standing relationship with a woman. Of this I had been positive in my mind. But had I been wrong? And had Carlos spent Sunday with the woman's family, instead of with her alone? Why then hadn't he brought her over to our family to meet _me_? I was not happy with this. This was not right. I continued to listen and learn.

Stephanie, it seemed, was now looking for a church in Newark in which to hold the ceremony. And, wonder of wonders, her friend Tina recommended _my _parish: Cathedral Basilica of the Sacred Heart! My heart soared again: the wedding would occur in my own parish, with my Carlito taking his marital vows in front of his family and friends at the same church in which he'd been baptized! This was enough to have me blinking back such happy tears that I needed to pretend to have something caught in my eye. Stephanie was excited at the prospect, and I learned then that both she and Tina worked in Newark. Now I needed to find out where--and that I was sure I would soon discover!

In the meantime, I would be spending much more time at church. Some day soon, I knew, I would be seeing Stephanie there. Now I can hear you already, doubting that I would see one girl amid the hundreds and hundreds of parishioners who attend Sacred Heart. _Ha! _I had my sources: I knew people, _important _people, in the church. And my neighbor Georgina Delgado had a sister who worked in the church rectory. So I would know exactly when Stephanie joined our parish. And more importantly, I would know when she set a meeting with Father Brady to make plans for the wedding.

Then Tina proposed a toast to Stephanie and Carlos. _June, 2010! _Now I had a month for the wedding, if not the exact date! And, when Mary Lou followed that toast up with another of her own, I had the exact date of Carlos' return from the Middle East. April 6, 2010! I smiled happily. My silver platter continued to overflow….

I listened and I learned still more. I already disliked Stephanie's witch of a mother. Now I didn't like the sound of Stephanie's sister, either. What kind of woman is too self-absorbed to be a bridesmaid in her sister's wedding? No one _I_ wanted to know, certainly. There were 2 nieces in the picture, as well as another little one called Michelle. They were all going to be flower girls, apparently. Clearly Stephanie liked children. This was good. She and my Carlito would make beautiful babies together! Perhaps they already had, based on how they'd been behaving this weekend? But no--Carlos was a smart boy, he would have used protection. And he would never leave his woman with child while he was away, that I knew. My mind was relieved.

Then I discovered why I'd had all that trouble finding Stephanie. Stephanie _Mazur _was Stephanie _Plum_! For sure, Carlito had met her for--how do they say it?--a quickie! This was no long-standing relationship. I had been correct in my original assumption. Poor Carlito! So besotted with the woman that he'd managed to get her surname wrong! I hoped for his sake that he'd managed to get the business sorted out with that Will he'd asked Ricardo and Alejandro to witness. But it mattered not: Carlito would not die, so he'd need no Will to be read! I sent up another prayer to St. Anne, and went back to listening. I was so intent on what was going on at the next table that I hadn't eaten more than a few bites of my shrimp cocktail before it was taken away from me as our entrees arrived. _No matter! _I could always eat, after all! But I couldn't always have an opportunity like this one; I intended to make the most of it.

Stephanie--or _Stevie_, as this Tina continued to call her--was rhapsodizing about Carlito now, singing his praises in terms that made my heart soar. The girl was proud of him, of his consideration, of his thoughtfulness in ordering birthday gifts for her. Gifts that had obviously served their purpose, both in reassuring her of his love and bringing a smile to her face in his absence. Listening to the wide assortment of presents--27 red roses, a teddy bear, the best chocolates--it seemed that my Carlito was quite the romantic suitor! That wasn't a Manoso gene, unfortunately: neither my late husband Alejandro nor my son Ricardo had an ounce of romance in them. Nor did my other grandson, young Alejandro. Trust Carlito to be quite the charmer, in every possible way! It did my heart proud!

Now the girls were teasing her about Carlito, and she giggled, good-naturedly. She held up her wrist, a lovely yellow gold bracelet adorning it, and jingled it to call attention to still another of Carlito's many gifts. He called her Wonder Woman, eh? Carlito had always loved playing Superman as a child: it was only fitting that he'd found a superhero to wed! So Mateo had delivered this gift _personally_, had he? Interesting. I suspected now that he had more deliveries planned in the future 18 months. I'd be keeping an even _more_ watchful eye on young Mateo, for sure. It was really not that big a surprise, though, thinking about it. Mateo and Carlito had always been thick as thieves, closer than he was with his own brother. That was thanks to my son's stubborn obstinacy, and the favoritism he had always shown Alejandro.

_Carlos makes other men pale in comparison to him_, Stephanie was continuing her effusive praise of my Carlito, and I beamed wider. I need not worry about other men catching her eye. Clearly, to Stephanie, there was only her beloved Carlos. Then her girlfriends asked about someone named Joe Morelli--apparently this one was her mother's choice for her. I cut into my filet mignon with a violence. _'Cupcakes are yummy!' _What kind of foolishness was that? _Grade school_, I tell you! That comes from a _boy_, not a _man_! Stephanie asked the same question moments later, and I nodded my approval. The girl had her head on straight, all right: any man who would call a woman 'Cupcake' was no match for my Carlito in _any_ department! Ah, so she preferred Carlito's endearment: _Babe_. Yes, I could imagine my grandson calling her that. And he wouldn't follow it up with 'Babes are yummy!' This Joe Morelli was an idiot! An idiot! And this proved her mother was one, as well. I dismissed them both from my mind as not worthy of any more of my time.

Then I got _another_ piece of information handed to me: she was taking on a new job two days from today. She was going to be designing lingerie for a company named Dawson! Or perhaps Dawson was the name of her partner? I would check the phone directory for a lingerie company with that name. The new line was to be called 'Babe' in honor of the name that my Carlito called her! Better 'Babe' lingerie than 'yummy Cupcake' lingerie, I sniffed. Apparently she and her friend Tina would be working together, although it was clear that Stephanie was in charge. So my Carlito had a _smart_ woman as well: she would have her own lingerie line! This was good: there would be fire in the bedroom with her designing lingerie and my Carlito helping her to take it off! For sure, I would get many beautiful grandchildren from these two…

Then I was caught red-handed, as they say! _The jig was up! _The friend called Mary Lou leaned into Stephanie, and I saw her call her friend's attention to me. I watched as the three women carefully checked me out without trying to be too obvious about it. No matter! I smiled charmingly, and went about my business eating my filet mignon. It was quite good, now that I had an opportunity to actually taste it! Maria and Nina chatted on, and I interjected a few words so that they wouldn't bother me again when I went back to eavesdropping--I mean, detecting. _I was not being nosy,_ _I was being a good detective_, I reminded myself. Look at all I'd found out so far! I was quite talented at this investigating thing.

I heard Stephanie groaning about her world-famous _You Tube _video, and her fear that I, like others apparently, had recognized her because of news reports concerning EE Martin. An FBI raid? _Madre de Dios! _This was the company she and her friend Tina had worked for? The one that had been closed several days ago because of some kind of Mafia connection? I remembered the news reports interrupting me constantly when I was trying to watch my telenovelas. At the time, I hadn't paid much attention to the news story--after all, what did _I_ care about crooked men who washed their money?--but that would change now that I had a personal stake in things! I would be spending a lot of time at the library, I decided. They would have old newspapers, so I would be able to catch up on what I had missed. As for this notorious _You Tube _video Stephanie had performed in--I would need to find out what that was, and make certain that I got the opportunity to see it. I noted the title: '_hot lingerie babe on desk raps her notice_'. I'd make use of that once I found out what in the world a _You Tube _was! I could ask one of my grandchildren. Tomas for one took an unhealthy interest in things like that!

Then she was back to talking about her new job, and I discovered that Dawson wasn't a company, he was a person. _Dawson Books. _And she had taken the job with him because my Carlito had encouraged her to fly! Ah, yes, the Wonder Woman reference. The bracelet she wore so proudly. It made more sense now. She was apparently quitting her job in order to begin work for this Dawson Books, and someone made a video of it. Or so I puzzled together. I'd do more detecting and see how close my assumptions came to the truth. Come to think of it, I believe I actually had a few unmentionables in my drawer which bore the name Dawson Books! Funny, I couldn't see a young woman like Stephanie actually wanting to design that kind of thing, but perhaps she didn't know what kind of older market his underclothing appealed to? Regardless, she was going to be employed in an important job. And she was calling the line '_Babe_' not '_yummy_ _Cupcake_'. That was all _I_ cared about! Carlito would be happy, she was certain. That was enough for me.

My musings were interrupted by Nina, who was insistent that I give my opinion on the match young Rosaria Montafiore had made with her young man, and thus, I almost missed Stephanie's confirmation that she had first met Carlito Friday night. In a _bar_, of all places! Well, _that_ was where this sort of 'hook up' (as they called it) happened, wasn't it? You didn't meet a woman at _church_ and suggest that you immediately go to bed together, did you? Of course not. Carlito was in the bar looking for a woman; and there she was, probably looking for a man. She'd seen Carlito, and he'd seen her--and the rest, as they say, was history. But this had lasted beyond a one-night stand. This wasn't tawdry. Although for certain I would have to come up with a way to sanitize the story before I could ever introduce Stephanie to Carlito's mother and sisters. I would need to think on that some more!

The women had by now turned to talking dresses, they were obviously out shopping for bridal gowns and the like, and hadn't been pleased with the selection. But red, white and blue were going to be Stephanie's colors; and that was in honor of Carlito and his service in the military. He would be quite pleased, I knew. My grandson loved the military. She was keeping him in mind with all her plans, and that I liked _a lot_. The witch of a mother and her attempts at sabotaging the wedding were discussed again, and Stephanie bragged that she would pull an Ellen Plum on Ellen Plum. Her plan was quite devious; I was proud of her! So that was the bitch's name, huh? _Ellen Plum? _She was relentlessly pushing the Cupcake fool over my Carlito? She was lucky she wasn't _here_, because if she had been, I wouldn't have been able to hold my tongue. And I'd be more likely to let loose in English than Spanish…and that would never do! I needed to keep my little secret; it had served me well over the years. It would continue to do so, especially now, when so much was still to be uncovered!

Again, I was spotted for being too obvious in my spying…I mean, my _detecting_. Stephanie offered me a small smile, and I took the opportunity to give her a blinding smile in return. Poor child looked stunned. Then they'd gotten their entrees, and I could tell that all thought of me was far from her mind. She was definitely a vocal food lover, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at how loud she was getting. She was really quite charming: I'm certain she had no idea how much noise she was making over her food. But I suspected that my son Ricardo had been won over by her love of food; it was after all his Achilles' heel. You praised his cooking, and he'd love you forever!

The discussion broke out over which entrée was most delicious, which one should make the wedding reception's menu--and it struck me finally that the girl had decided to hold the reception here at _Rosa's_! I was dizzy with glee by now! I wonder if my son had any idea? I was already irate because he had kept Carlito's proposal to Stephanie from me. To think that he'd kept this secret as well was beyond too much!

I blinked, then re-examined what I was listening to. 'Papa'? She was now calling Ricardo _Papa_? I had thought that the whole purpose of the three men meeting Stephanie on Sunday night had been for Carlito to introduce them to his woman without revealing their family connection to him? Wasn't that how it had happened? I thought again, and concluded that I was correct: no way did this girl know that Ricardo was in actuality Carlito's father. Or that Alejandro was his brother. After all, she had earlier referred to Mateo as Carlos' _friend_, not his _cousin_. No, Ricardo had pulled a fast one, as they say. He'd somehow managed to get the poor girl calling him Papa; Carlito must have been steamed on that one! My son was such an _ass_! How long would it be before she discovered his last name was Manoso? And how furious would she be with Ricardo for making her feel like a fool? Carlito she would forgive--although she would no doubt be angry at him, for a time, as well. But she loved Carlito. And he was a charming man, my grandson. Ricardo would not find it easy to charm this woman once his trick had been exposed. _Men! _They do not think of things like this! This would need _me_ to step in at some point, I decided. But when and how, I still knew not.

Meanwhile, I had another mystery solved by just listening: the Mazur name, it seemed, was her _mother's_ side of the family; the Plum was her _father's_. Ellen Mazur Plum. That was the witch's full name: I made careful note of it. And there was a big family, Stephanie said. She was expecting 300 or so guests, and she planned to pay for it herself as her surprise gift to Carlos. _Good for her! _She was obviously making a good living; best she take control of the wedding away from this mother of hers, and do things her own way. Especially since her way of doing things was to be considerate of Carlito's tastes! Although I suspected that Carlito was going to be far from pleased to discover that his father was going to be hosting the wedding reception here at _Rosa's. _After all, my grandson had managed to stay far away from _Rosa's _for most of his adult life…only to have his reception here! Another reason my son would be ecstatic: he would have Carlito where he had always wanted him! I wondered if holding it here had been _Stephanie's_ idea or _Ricardo's_? That would be interesting to uncover!

The girls chattered on, teasing Stephanie with how handsome and how sexy my grandson was, and Tina assured Mary Lou that Carlito was even hotter than in his photos. Photos! Ah! Stephanie had taken photographs of them together, and was proudly showing them to her friends. And no doubt holding them close to her every night, crying for his return. The poor child was beyond smitten. As it should be! Then I almost choked on my food as the girl announced that _she_ had boldly picked _him _up in the bar, and not the other way around, as I'd supposed! My head was spinning now. I did not like the idea that she was the sort to aggressively seek out strangers in bars for one night stands. If Carlito had approached her, that was of course different: that is what men do. And how, after all, could a woman--any woman--resist my charming Carlito? _Impossible. _

I was relieved when her friends' reactions assured me that this kind of behavior was foreign from her nature, and that she had acted in a moment of foolishness while under the influence of a chocolate martini. I made a note to order one the next time I went out, to see whether they were as delicious as she obviously felt them to be! I would perhaps be wicked myself and order one at their wedding reception, in clear hearing of both of them! Then I would turn and give them a big wink and they could wonder how I had discovered the truth and whom I had told! _Yes! _I could be quite a devil when I was in the mood….as Carlito had discovered when I wagged my finger at him in the parking lot, as he made most improper use of his rental car.

I heard more about this initial meeting between Stephanie and my Carlito, and for some reason it amused me. I could picture it in my mind: the girl had blurted her thoughts out on how 'hot and sexy' he was; she'd been mortified afterwards, but Carlito had no doubt found it charming. Stephanie was quite lovely, but there was an innocence about her that told me that Friday night was the first and only time she'd done anything like this. For a man as experienced as my grandson--and I was no fool, I knew he had been around the block many times--this must have been a breath of fresh air!

They had spent most of the weekend together, except for his visit to see his family, and they had fallen head over heels in love. I sighed, it was romantic: love at first sight. I had never had that experience. I was old now; I never would. But my Carlito had fallen, and fallen hard, and _that_ was what was important. To have proposed in such a short time, then left on his most dangerous mission? Oh, yes. This was the stuff that romantic films were made of! And there would be a happily ever after. Because my Carlito and I would _insist_ on one!

Just then, as we were finishing our after-dinner coffee and sweets, the door to the kitchen opened and Ricardo came over to the table to greet us. He leaned in to kiss me, and I complemented him on my meal. He was quite pleased, and happily accepted complements from Nina and Maria, as well. I was certain that he had no clue Stephanie was in the restaurant, certainly none that she was at the table next to us. If he had known, I was positive that he would have been---

_AHA! Now_ he knew, for certain! The waiter had come with a birthday cake for young Stephanie, and everyone had begun to sing. As the song concluded, and the applause began, I saw my son's face as he looked up and suddenly realized who the birthday celebrant was. He has always been terrible at keeping his feelings off his face, ever since he was a young boy! Tonight was no different. Ricardo gave me a look of pure terror--he was afraid she would call him 'Papa' and I would (quite naturally) question who she was and why she did so…

"¿No son usted yendo a acercarse y desear a la mujer joven un cumpleaños feliz?" (_Aren't you going to go over and wish the young woman a happy birthday?_) I said, smiling innocently. "¡Vaya! Usted es el anfitrión: ¡esto es su deber de ser amistoso a sus invitados, Ricardo!" (_Go! You are the host: it is your duty to be friendly to your guests, Ricardo!)_ I was always so much better at hiding my reactions than he was. No one watching us would have any clue that I knew or cared who Stephanie was! Or that I had just been listening to over an hour's worth of very interesting discussion on her oh-so-important part in my grandson's life.

After a moment's hesitation, my son made his way to Stephanie's side, and did his best to block my view of her. He lowered his voice, and proceeded to try to chat normally with her without saying anything about Carlito that would draw my interest. He was nervous that she would bring up her beloved's name. I was beyond amused! My companions and I were finishing our coffee now, and I watched as Ricardo came back to the table and braced for an inquisition from me. Now of course I had my fun!

"¿Quizás yo también debería acercarme y desearle un cumpleaños feliz?" (_Perhaps I too should go over and wish her a happy birthday?_) I mused, enjoying the pure terror on his face at hearing those words.

"¡No, no, Madre, no hay ninguna necesidad de hacer así!" (_No, no, Mama, there is no need to do so._) He looked pained.

"Discrepo, Ricardo. ¡Después de todo, el restaurante es llamado a Rosa! Su padre difunto - el resto de Dios su alma - siempre me animaba a saludar a los invitados personalmente. Lo pienso la cosa derecha de hacer…" (_I disagree, Ricardo. After all, the restaurant is named Rosa's! Your late father--God rest his soul--always encouraged me to greet the guests personally. I think it the right thing to do…)_

"La mujer disfruta de su pastel ahora, Madre. Interrumpirla no sería cortés. Además, la he saludado ya y le he deseado un cumpleaños feliz." (_The woman is enjoying her cake now, Mama. To interrupt her would not be polite. Besides, I have already greeted her and wished her a happy birthday_.)

"MMMMM. Si usted está seguro…" (_MMMMM. If you're sure…_) I made my voice sound uncertain.

"¡Soy positivo, Madre! Realmente. No hay ninguna necesidad." (_I am positive, Mama! Truly. There is no need_.) He now drew breath, sensing his ordeal was almost over. "Usted y sus amigas encantadores han disfrutado de su comida. Este me hace orgulloso y feliz. Siempre disfruto de sus visitas aqua." (_You and your lovely friends have enjoyed your meal. This makes me proud and happy. I always enjoy your visits here_.)

_Nonsense! _He hadn't enjoyed my visit on Sunday night. Not at all! And now that I realized Stephanie was in here calling him '_Papa_' and planning her wedding reception to my Carlito, Ricardo would enjoy my coming visits even _less_. Because they would be much more frequent and much more unexpected: I planned on ensuring that he wasn't going to make a hash of things with Stephanie, and try to use her to somehow try to convince Carlito to take a job with the restaurant! That would be just Ricardo's little game! Convince Stephanie that Carlito needed a secure job outside the Army, and then offer him a job doing God-knows-what at _Rosa's_, dressed in a penguin suit! _No! _I would not have it! But best Ricardo not know I was on to him. I smiled, and allowed myself to be kissed on the cheek. I said nothing.

By this time Nina and Maria had stood and were ready to leave. I watched my son gesture to the bus boy to clear the table, and thanked him prettily for the delicious meal. Then I followed my companions to the coat check to pick up our coats. By then Ricardo had disappeared back into the kitchen.

I made my move swiftly! I glided silently to Stephanie's table, and waited for her to look up. When she did, I said, "¡Cumpleaños feliz, mi niña! Puede usted ser bendito siempre." (_Happy birthday, my child. May you be blessed always_.)

She looked surprised, and I could not blame her. After all, she had no idea who I was. I gave her a warm smile then vanished quickly, lest Ricardo glance outside the door and see me.

I smiled broadly all the way home. I'd had a very successful night. I'd learned a lot, and I would use that information to learn still _more_! And more importantly: I had made the initial contact with Stephanie. The door was now open for future meetings between us. Where and when, I needed to consider carefully. But one thing I was certain of: _Ricardo would never see me coming!_

I was feeling quite wicked. Quite wicked indeed!


	59. Chapter 59

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. Hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 59

_Carlos' POV_

Dios, it had been one hell of a long day! My exhausted body ached from the grueling training we'd undergone--mental as well as physical. But I knew damned well that it was the only chance I had of still being alive at the end of this hellish 18 month mission. That, and a shit-load of luck. _90% fatality rate. _That meant that the majority of the men with whom I'd trained would be dead by the time April 6, 2010 rolled around. I was damned well determined I was _not _going to be among the fatalities. _Whatever it takes, Superman… _

During the last 6 days since I'd left my Babe, my mission team and I (and others) had all been assembling at a remote compound deep inside the US Army's sprawling Fort Bragg, North Carolina complex. The compound is the headquarters of the US Army's 1st Special Force Operational Detachment Delta (SFOD-D). Aka _Delta Force_. The group that officially doesn't exist, according to our government. The group that does the impossible on a daily basis.

No expense had been spared in the construction of the compound: we never knew what skills we would need to have in order to complete our top-secret missions, so we had to train for every eventuality. Delta Force therefore had the best facilities available, including a three-story climbing wall, an Olympic-sized swimming pool, and numerous shooting facilities. I was spending a lot of time at the gun range--after all, Iraq wasn't going to call for any swimming….

We'd also been receiving daily briefings from the "funny platoon"--a misnomer if ever there was one. Anything but comedians, they were in fact the Intel-gathering branch of Delta Force. Our lives were almost literally in their hands: if they'd screwed up, we died. Hell, from the sound of this mission, even if they'd gotten it all right, we died. Or 90% of us did, anyway. But not me. _Not me. _

By Saturday 2030 hours we knew exactly what we had to do, and the best way in which to do it. _Theoretically_, that is. Listening to the briefings describing what we were going up against, it was almost impossible to believe there actually _was _a 'best way'. My team and I were all agreed, to a man: it was pretty much a clusterfuck waiting to happen. No wonder the CIA had come to Delta Force for help!

It was dangerous as all hell, but it had to be done: _Operation Eagle Strike _was a complex mission, each stage more dangerous than the one preceding it. If I told you all of the details of the operation, I'd have to kill you. I was good at doing that: the best. But suffice to say, it was going to be a very interesting--and hazardous--18 months.

A key CIA operative had been snatched by Al-Qaeda militants less than 2 weeks ago. He was currently being moved from cell to cell in the remote regions of Iraq, never spending more than 2 days at a time in one place. And he was undoubtedly being tortured for the information he held in his head--information that was far more valuable than you could possibly imagine! He needed to be extracted--or eliminated. Extraction was preferred, so that the CIA could determine just what had been compromised, and take corrective measures. Once we had him, two of my team would return to the states with him. They would probably be the 10% that lived--only because they were getting out before the even more dangerous part of the mission began.

The cells would have to be infiltrated; we'd need to find out what had been disseminated, and to whom. Then the cells would have to be eliminated, as well. There was a hell of a lot of elimination required in _Operation Eagle Strike_. Thus my prolonged practice time on the gun range.

I, like my team, had been anxious to get on with it, because there was no way a man could hold up to torture from Al-Qaeda for long. But no one had been able to give us any reliable Intel on which cell had him or where. So we'd had to basically sit on our hands for the last 6 days while the "funny platoon" did their thing and got us the information we needed. Or as close to it as they could come. Like I said: a clusterfuck waiting to happen.

Finally the news we'd been waiting for had come down; we'd received our final briefing less than an hour ago. We were to officially begin _Operation Eagle Strike _Sunday at 0600 hours. We'd be inserted deep into enemy territory by our aviation platoon. Then the team I led would locate the Al-Qaeda cell holding the CIA operative, and hope to hell that we could extract and not eliminate him. Poor bastard, he was probably close to death by now anyway….

It was my Babe's birthday today, I suddenly realized.

God, that time with her had seemed a lifetime ago! I'd been the most fortunate man on Earth to have met Stephanie, and I knew it. She was one in a million--and she was _mine_: body and soul! I'd been a fool to ever think that I could walk away from her for good. To have tried to keep to my initial plan of a one night stand. From the moment I'd met her, I was hopelessly under her spell. Thank God I'd gotten my head out of my ass in time and told her I wanted a future with her.

Because I knew without a doubt that, without her, I'd have bought into those horrific 90% fatality numbers. I'd have spilled my blood on the desert without ever knowing what real love was. Without experiencing the redemption it could bring a man like me, who had seen more ugliness than any man should ever have to know. Who had done unspeakable things in the name of his country. But I knew true love now--and for damned certain, I wasn't the same man I'd been when I had first walked into that crowded bar on Friday night.

Now I proudly wore the St. Michael's medal that Stephanie had given me around my neck. And I carried the 'love contract' that she'd written me close to my heart. I had read it so many times that I could recite it from memory. Every beautiful promise, every glorious word of it was deeply etched into my heart and my very soul. I gazed over and over at the photos of my Babe, recalling the special moments we'd shared during this magical weekend. I dreamt of her nightly. Vivid dreams that left me renewed and strengthened every time I awoke to face another day. I would survive. For her. Because of her. _Whatever it takes…_

My woman. Dios! I remembered the feel of her silken porcelain skin against mine; the sound of her tinkling laughter, like music--and the low deep sound of her moans as we made love so intensely, so passionately, that we'd in essence become halves of the same whole. I saw her smile, her perfectly-shaped lips turning up in the mischievous grin that had captured my heart from the first moment I'd seen it. And her eyes. Oh, her impossibly-blue eyes! Eyes that saw every dark and damaged part deep inside of my soul--and still did not look away. How I loved that woman! There were no words that could express that enough. There never could be, not from me: after all, I'm a soldier, not a poet.

I'd spent the entire plane ride from Newark to the Raleigh-Durham airport lost in thoughts of Stephanie. Worrying about how she would make it through the upcoming 18 months. Sure, she had her girlfriend Tina to support her. Thank God. And she'd spoken of her life-long friend Mary Lou from the Burg. But Steph had a mother who picked away at her self-esteem relentlessly, and a job that she didn't seem to enjoy at all. I wanted more for her. I wanted Stephanie to have everything she deserved, everything she wanted, and even more she didn't even know was out there to be had! I wanted my Babe to _fly_--and I knew that deep inside, she wanted that too! Hell, she _needed_ it!

But instead of being by her side to support her, I was going to be thousands upon thousands of miles away. I couldn't even pick up the phone and call her, or email her--not even before we left for the Middle East. Hell, I couldn't even write her a damned letter! I was incommunicado for the next 18 months. Because of regulations. That was going to eat at me: not knowing how Stephanie was holding up through all of this.

She'd been spectacularly brave at the airport. I'd been so damned proud of her! Stoic, holding her tears, resolute in her determination to be strong for me. But I knew Steph: she was hurting--and hurting badly. She'd probably broken down in tears the moment I stepped out of view.

And no matter how much support Tina and Mary Lou and her other girlfriends offered her (and they would do their best), they weren't going to be there in the wee small hours of the morning, when she'd awaken crying from nightmares of the dangers I was facing. They weren't going to be able to hold her in their arms when she turned on the news and listened to report after report of unnamed casualties from the Middle East. And they weren't going to be there to lambaste that shrewish mother of hers when the bitch opened her damned mouth and sabotaged all of the self-confidence that my Babe had built up during the time we'd been together. Steph wouldn't have someone to support her 24/7, unconditionally, no matter how rough things were. That was _my _job, as the man who loved her. And I wouldn't be able to be there for her. That was my nightmare, and it was a waking one. It was a special kind of hell.

I'd no doubt that Mat would keep an eye on her as best he could, but that could only be from afar. He could deliver the gifts that would, hopefully, give her the strength to go on day after day, knowing that she was always in my thoughts and in my prayers. He'd see that she got that Porsche for Christmas--or earlier, if that POS car of hers bit the dust before December 25th (as it well might).

I'd ordered jewelry and flowers and chocolate and desserts and every other damned thing I could think of, to remind her that I loved her. That I was planning on sharing a life with her when I got back. I'd put that promise ring on her finger, and gifted her with a suite of matching opals. And I'd ordered a spectacular suite of blue diamond jewelry made especially for her. But they were all _material _things. I wanted to give her the _emotional _support she needed. And I couldn't. It hurt like hell. And it festered in my mind.

If only I could be certain that Steph would be living her life and her dreams as Wonder Woman while I was gone. Rather than merely surviving one day at a time, getting even more battered and bruised emotionally as the days until April 6, 2010 trickled down. _Dios! _What I would give for that assurance! I said a soft prayer to St. Michael, patron saint of the soldier, and left it in his hands. There was nothing more I could do, after all!

"Hey, Superman! How about I kick your ass in a game or two of poker?" Lester Santos came up from behind. When I turned to answer him, he gave me an understanding smile.

Lester knew I was thinking of my Babe. Hell, his father the jeweler was, even as we spoke, shopping for the blue diamonds with which to make her wedding suite!

Immediately upon my return, I'd told all of my buddies that I'd fallen in love with Stephanie Plum. And I'd proudly shown them the gifts she'd given me, as well as the photos of the woman who would one day, God willing, be Mrs. Carlos Manoso. They'd at first been incredulous that I, of all men, would have fallen in love at first sight. Some had downright refused to believe it, thinking it was some crazy joke I was playing, and wondering why I was behaving so out of character. But once they'd realized I was serious, they were every bit as supportive of me as I knew Stephanie's girlfriends were of her.

"You could always _try _beating me, Santos," I smirked, "But since we all know that you have shitty luck at poker, I'm pretty damned certain that the only one kicking ass tonight is going to be _me_."

"We'll see, we'll see_. I'm the man! _After all, I scored with that good-looking fox Tina, didn't I? Talk about luck!"

"You haven't even _met_ Tina yet," I snorted, "What the fuck are you talking about, you _scored _with her? You're such an ass, Santos!"

He grinned. "She's practically my promised woman now, Superman! I get back to Newark in October, remember?" I _did_: Santos, with Tank, was supposed to deliver our CIA guest to the suits. If all went well, that is. "I move fast, you know! Like lightning! So that means by the time you show up come April, my sweet little fox Tina and I are already going to be out shopping for her engagement ring."

"If she can stand your arrogance, that is," I laughed, enjoying our always good-natured bantering. "But hell, by then she might have dumped you flat in favor of Tank! How do you know she won't fall head over heels for the Big Guy the minute she lays eyes on him?"

"Not gonna happen," Santos insisted, "Besides, Tank only goes for full-figured women, you know that, Superman. Not enough meat on my woman's bones for Tank."

"That why you didn't hook me up with her, Manoso?" Tank's booming voice preceded his large frame into the room. "I was wondering why you done pushed Santos' loser ass on the poor girl."

"That's why," I confirmed, "But I saw a _lot_ of good-looking women in that hotel corridor, so if you want to meet one of them, it can certainly be arranged."

"Yeah, but _you_ done grabbed the hottest-looking woman there, I bet," Tank complained sadly, "My dumb ass luck, I'll end up matched up with that old fat lady who wanted to eat you up for lunch."

"_Ruby_? Hell, I like you too damned much to do that to you, buddy! Now, _Bobby_ here, that's a different story! He and Ruby would make the perfect couple, now that you mention it. What do you think, Brown?"

Bobby Brown gave me a middle finger salute silently. Then we found a table to sit at for our poker game. Brown dealt, and the four of us wasted an hour or so bantering back and forth, getting our minds off the hell that awaited us on the morrow. It was the first real down-time we'd had all week.

Some of the other team members had drifted in by then, and one of them turned on the flat screen TV to catch up on the latest news, courtesy of CNN. We were listening in as the poker game began to wind down.

"In other news, Edward E. Martin III and his cousin Milton T. Martin, co-owners of the troubled EE Martin Company, were today denied bail. The two, along with office manager Grizelda S. Lebowitz and the company's accountant Morton Q. McFurtz, continue to be held in Federal custody tonight, facing a number of serious charges that include alleged money-laundering, conspiracy, and tax evasion. They, as well as reputed Mafia big-wig Eugene R. Sipowitz, were taken into custody on Wednesday morning in a massive surprise FBI raid on the Newark, New Jersey-based company that saw---"

_EE Martin had been raided by the FBI? _My head shot up instantly, my attention now riveted to the television. That was the company my Babe worked for! And I remembered her mentioning a Mrs. Lebowitz: she was the boss that Stephanie so disliked. This was a disaster! Stephanie was now out of a job, and no doubt reeling from the shock of the raid.

"What the----?" I gulped. "Turn that damned thing up, will you? I need to hear this!"

The poker game instantly ceased, and Santos gave me a look that told me that he too had made the connection with Stephanie. I'd mentioned that she was a lingerie buyer for EE Martin, and the guys had teased me good-naturedly about how convenient it was that my woman could order lingerie and I could help her dispose of it so quickly. It didn't seem so funny right about now.

"FBI spokesman Theodore N. Nivens this afternoon confirmed reports circulating over the few days that McFurtz had pledged co-operation and agreed to testify against his co-conspirators. The 56 year-old account from Summit, New Jersey has reportedly been put under protective custody at an undisclosed location, fearing underworld retaliation for his testimony which could result in---"

"_Fuck! _That's Steph's company!" I said, throwing down my cards and striding over to the sofa so that I could follow the report more intently. "Why didn't I hear about this sooner?"

"Because we've been busting our asses all week," Tank sighed, "Between the training and the briefings, we haven't had time to do much but eat and sleep."

"And damned little of that," muttered Brown tiredly.

"Goddamn it to living hell!" I swore, "In this economy, she's going to have a bitch of a time finding a new job anyway. Now with this damned company on her resume, it'll be down-right _impossible_!"

The announcer continued, and I hung on every word, desperate for more information on the raid. I'd mentioned to Mateo that Steph worked for EE Martin; undoubtedly he would be trying to do something to help her. He had my power of attorney; he knew that my financial resources would be at Stephanie's disposal. But how could he make contact and resolve her monetary difficulties without being too obvious? _Shit_, what did I really care now if he _were_ obvious? I just wanted money in her hands so that my Babe could pay her rent and cover her bills! That bitchy mother of hers was no doubt on her back over this, and Steph would have limited emotional support if all her friends were also facing financial disaster! Damn it to hell, what could I do to help?

"In a bizarre but related story: the gorgeous young brunette now known nation-wide as simply '_the cake lady_', seen here in footage shot in the EE Martin employee parking lot moments after the Wednesday FBI raid had begun---"

"Hey, Superman, isn't that your woman?" Tank's voice boomed.

Steph's stunningly lovely face filled the screen, her blue eyes sparkling devilishly as she and Tina and another woman I didn't recognize high-fived each other while making their way through a herd of press in the parking lot. They strutted like they hadn't a care in the world, giggling happily as they made their way to their cars, ignoring the rapid-fire questions that the rabid press shouted after them.

"That's Steph, alright!" I watched her, drinking in her beauty anew, and noticing that she seemed to be having herself a damned good time for someone who had been so unexpectedly unemployed. Then I saw the cake box, and couldn't resist a smile: no wonder she was happy: she had cake! "My Babe _loves_ cake!" I confessed--as if that explained her unusual behavior.

Several loud wolf-whistles split the silence, and I gave the offenders a stern, "_MINE_!"

There were responses that ranged from "you lucky bastard" to "are there any more at home like her?" I sure as hell was. There sure as hell weren't.

"There she is--my soon-to-be woman Tina!" Santos pointed her out, grinning, "That's the future Mrs. Lester Santos, you guys!"

There were a few whistles for her, as well. Lester took a dramatic bow. _Why? _Who the fuck knows? _Because Santos is an ass_, I guessed. I shook my head and snorted in mock disgust. Unphased, he grinned even wider.

"---has become a _You Tube _phenomenon, garnering over 400,000 hits since video of the curly-haired lingerie buyer was uploaded on Wednesday afternoon as she delivered her novel resignation from EE Martin just moments before the company was raided by Federal agents---"

The video in question began playing in high definition. The entire room gathered around the screen and watched, mesmerized, as Steph shook her delectable booty while telling an apoplectic woman--identified as the unfortunate and now-under-arrest Grizelda Lebowitz--exactly where she could take her j-o-b and s-h-o-v-e it. I'd never seen anything quite like it: and _trust me_, I wasn't alone in my appreciation for the splendor that was my Babe!

"---Standing on her desk and rapping the Canibus song 'Take This J-O-B and S-H-O-V-E It', the curvy blue-eyed brunette stunned co-workers even as she captured the spotlight as the internet's new 'It girl'. Blessed with beauty, spirit, imagination, and a body that just won't quit, this appealing young woman wins our award for the Best Use of Office Equipment! In other news, Congress today enacted legislation that would----"

"_DAMN_!" Tank laughed, "When you told me you'd found yourself the perfect woman, Carlos, I had no idea you'd fallen for a hot little rap star!"

"Not for nothin', Superman," Bobby Brown opined, "She really knows how to shake it!"

"I'm in love!" sighed another of my team, dramatically.

"OK, so now my question is: she got any friends?" said another.

"Yeah, Superman," Tank decided, "You matched Santos here up. What you gonna do for your best buddy?"

"And just who might _that_ be, exactly?" I teased, enjoying myself immensely now that my worries about Steph had proved to be ill-founded. Clearly, she'd already landed another job, or she wouldn't have given her notice at EE Martin. The fact that she'd been so damned defiant about it did my heart proud: my Babe was taking life by the horns. She was not only flying, she was _soaring_! My Wonder Woman was kickin' ass and taking no prisoners!

"Who might that be? That would be _me_," Tank gave me a baleful look, "You matched Santos here up with a fine-looking woman; and I _know_ you be likin' _me_ better than him. So I ask again: where's _my_ hook-up?"

"You lookin' for Ruby?" I raised my eyebrow in interest. "I'm pretty damned certain I can get your ugly old ass a date with _her_. But as for any _other_ red-hot woman---"

"Don't be _mean_, Superman," came his answer, "Cause you know I always got your back! And now that you're off the market yourself, I _know_ you're gonna be helping me to settle down with a gorgeous young full-figured woman all my own."

"What's in it for me?" I pretended to consider the matter carefully.

"I get back to Newark a full 6 months before your fine Cuban ass does," he reminded me, grinning amicably. "You better be nice to me, Superman, or else I'm going to make it my mission in life to romance the hell out of your woman. Once I be workin' my old black magic on her, she won't even remember your name come April, 2010."

"Try it, and your old black magic is gonna get shoved where the sun don't shine, just like the song said," I warned him, laughing. "I mean it! Stay away from my woman, Tank, or you're gonna be very damned good and sorry, I double-damn guarantee it!"

"So, what _that_ mean? You tellin' me I gotta find my _own_ woman?" he huffed, workin' it for all he was worth. Man, Tank could really be pathetic when he put his mind to it.

"I'll have my woman Tina hook you up," Santos gave him a slap on the back, and a wink. "Don't say Uncle Lester never did anything for you."

"Your woman Tina?" I shook my head, still marveling at the one and only Lester Santos. If I didn't know damned good and well that he'd never even met her, I'd have probably believed that she and he were an item. "You're gonna have _your woman _Tina hook up Tank? Is that what I heard you say, Santos?"

"That's my plan," he said grandly. "Bobby? You want me to find you a woman too? Other than that man-eater Ruby?"

Brown gave me a bemused smile. "What the hell, _why not_? Stephanie and Tina are stunning-looking women. So was that third one--the blonde they were with in the parking lot. They got any friends in need of a good man, you can give them my name, for damned sure! I'll be back the same time Superman here is. You can spend the 6 months while you're waiting for us just talking up your buddy Bobby Brown to every fine-looking woman Tina knows. It'll give you something other than yourself to chat about for a change, Santos. Keep your woman from fallin' asleep that way."

"Fuck you, Brown!" Lester fired back, not the least bit offended.

"Fuck you right back, Santos!" came Bobby's swift reply.

Tank sighed deeply. "Now, now! That's enough! Time for you children to get to bed. We got places to go and things to do come the dawn…"

I nodded, reminded once again that we had a war to fight. But I'd sleep easier now, knowing that Saint Michael had been watching out for Stephanie--and me.

My Babe was clearly keeping her promise to me to use the 18 months we were apart to become Wonder Woman for real. She was not only flying, she was _soaring_! Now it was up to me to keep my promise to her: to return safely, and put my wedding ring on her finger! That I planned to do.

I touched the 'love contract' in my pocket, and renewed my solemn vow to Stephanie: _Whatever it takes, Babe, whatever it takes… _


	60. Chapter 60

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. Hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 60

Not unexpectedly, I'd gotten a call from Dawson immediately after he'd heard of the FBI raid. We'd chatted for some time, and agreed that I would start work for him on the following Monday, rather than taking a week's vacation as I'd originally planned. Tina was coming aboard on the same day. And, he assured me, he'd start trying to find jobs for my other friends, as well. He'd invited me to come in and see my new office before then, and offered to let me change whatever I cared to, be it paint color or furniture or 'whatever on else you might need'. So, naturally, I'd taken him up on his suggestion the following afternoon. No grass growing underneath _these_ feet! This was the new improved Stephanie Plum, after all.

_Never judge a book by looking at its cover_, says the old familiar adage. Well, never judge a Books--Dawson, that is--by looking at his out-moded designs for 'granny panties'. Or so I was learning, the more I got to know my new employer. He was a man of many surprises, that was for sure!

My job as lingerie buyer for EE Martin had never required me to do any traveling. It was a firm policy of theirs that all vendors came to _us_, not vice versa. I'd never realized it before, but it was probably due to their reluctance to spend a dime more than they had to. After all, travel expenses and an expense account cost--and they were, after all, spending the _Mob's_ money. Lord knows, they were certainly frugal on salaries! Not that I realized that until Dawson had named the figure he was willing to pay me as a base salary: it was more than _double_ what I'd been making after years on the job for EE Martin. Plus I got royalties on all my designs. And great benefits. And an expense account. And Tina as my Administrative Assistant. But I digress.

The whole point of my even bringing up the old adage at all is to confess that I'd never seen the building in which Dawson Books--and now I--did business, before I pulled up in front of it on a sunny Thursday afternoon. It was on the outskirts of Newark, in an area I didn't know very well.

When I'd first seen the two-story brick building, which extended back almost an entire city block, I'd blinked and re-checked the address--not once, but _twice_! This wasn't the old run-down factory building I was expecting to find: not by a long-shot. This building had a regal elegance to it; and I couldn't imagine a firm as behind-the-times as Dawson Books Designs being housed here. But it was. Hmmmm. I shook my head in confusion. I didn't expect it--but I _liked_ it. Very much! I was almost ashamed to park my POS car in their classy building's lot…

I'd been even more shocked when I walked into the reception area, and found it was the complete antithesis to Dawson's infamous 'granny panties' line of lingerie. It's sleek lines were up-to-date, visually appealing--and it made me do _another_ double take to be certain I was in the right place. _How the hell can he work in a place this stylish and au courrant and still manage to design lingerie so many years behind the times? The man is a complete mystery!_

He'd been waiting for me--and I could see by the amused look on his face, and the wicked sparkle in his eyes, that I'd again blurted my thoughts out loud! This time I had no chocolate martinis to blame!

"Sorry," I sighed, "That was so rude of me."

"Not at all, Stephanie. It's a perfectly logical question. One that I'm more than prepared to answer! Shall we?" He gestured for me to follow him, and for the next hour or so I got a complete tour of the building from my new employer. Along with a history of the company that answered a lot of my questions.

By the time Monday morning rolled around, I couldn't wait to get to work! I was unbelievably almost an hour early, turning up closer to 8 than 9. I'd filled out all the necessary paperwork for my hire during my Thursday afternoon visit, so I simply made my way to my newly-renovated office on the second floor. As I remembered, it was beyond fabulous!

To actually call it an office was a massive understatement: it was really more of an office _suite_. I opened a glass door which bore my name stenciled upon it in an elegant white script, and stood, motionless, taking in the gorgeous sight that awaited me. The airy cream-colored expanse was configured so that two rooms--each with French doors--faced each other across a floor of tumbled white marble. On the left side stood my office, flanked by two white marble columns. On the right side, between matching columns, stood my own _personal_ conference room! Tina's desk was situated directly in the middle of the space, opposite from the entrance to the suite. The cove ceiling was painted a soft sky blue, and the effect of the whole picture--with its dramatic lighting--was nothing less than stunning.

When I had gotten the grand tour on Thursday afternoon, I'd been expecting nothing remotely this spacious. Certainly nothing as feminine and elegant in design. In truth, I'd felt a lot like Alice In Wonderland must have when she'd fallen down the rabbit hole! This morning I still did, in many ways. The colors I'd chosen were ideal; the furnishings were exactly what I'd envisioned when I'd given Dawson my suggestions.

Moving into the office, I shrugged out of my light-weight coat and tossed it carelessly on one of the tastefully-upholstered chairs. I continued my slow and measured tour of the newly-painted, newly-decorated office. I still couldn't believe it was _mine_! It was certainly a big change from the dark cramped little cubicle that I'd spent 5 years of my life in, working for the now-defunct EE Martin.

Checking my watch, I decided to poke my head in to the office next door, and see if Dawson himself had arrived. I wanted to thank him, as well as to confirm our 9:30 meeting.

"Stephanie! Good to see you here!" He looked up with a big smile, and stood to welcome me with a hearty hand-shake. "Welcome officially to Dawson Books Designs. I hope you're pleased with the changes?"

"They're incredible! I can't believe you got it all done this quickly." And I really couldn't.

"It helps to have a sister who's an interior designer," he winked, "Particularly when she owes you a big favor!"

"She certainly did a beautiful job on everything," I congratulated him, "It's more than I ever hoped for, honestly!"

"You deserve it," he replied, "I've looked over those new designs of yours, as well as your fabric suggestions and color choices. I'm putting them into production immediately! _As is! _No changes necessary to any of them! I want to be able to offer them to customers for Christmas!"

"Well, I've got plenty more where they came from," I tapped my head and grinned. "I've been sketching all weekend. And doing some serious thinking. We still on for 9:30?"

"Definitely. I'm looking forward to it! I've got the meeting scheduled for all morning--I want to hear everything you have to say. Why don't we hold it in your office? That way I can meet your new Administrative Assistant, and welcome Miss Minardo to the company, as well."

Dawson's phone rang then, and I left as he took the call. I wandered downstairs to the employee cafeteria for breakfast. Alas, no Boston creams! That would have to be my next campaign, I decided. For today, I settled for a toasted bagel and a large coffee with cream and extra sugar. A girl has to do what she can to keep her sugar uptake steady!

Then I made my way back upstairs, marveling again at the Paradise that was my new working environment.

"Holy shit, Stevie! This place is _gorgeous_!" Moments later I heard Tina's distinctive voice, appropriately awe-struck, from the outer room where her new desk was located. Seems she'd come in early, as well.

"Come on in, girl!" I invited, a huge grin on my face, "I'm over here."

She peeked her head into my office, and gasped again. "Holy moly macarolli! I just don't get it! How does a guy who designs those God-awful decades old 'granny panties' manage to do that from a place like _this_?"

"Pull up a chair and I'll fill you in," I replied, "I asked him the same thing when I first saw this place on Thursday afternoon. In almost the exact same words."

"You _didn't_!" Tina giggled.

"I did. Come on: you know me and my big fat mouth! Anyway, he gave me the scoop on all of it. Turns out, Dawson's younger sister Catherine's an interior designer; and she's married to Marcus Ward, the well-known architect."

"That's the guy who won that big award last year for designing the new hotel in Paramus!"

"That's him, all right. Apparently, Dawson was complaining to them that his business just wasn't keeping up with the times, and he was looking for ideas on what to do about it. They wanted to help, so they suggested that he make some major changes in how he presented himself to his clients. Turns out Dawson owns the building, and so he sprang for the renovations last year."

"They're spectacular! But I still don't get---"

"He signed off on whatever they suggested, he said. He didn't have a clue what the hell would work. He just knew his company was in desperate need of an image make-over. Poor guy! Anyway, he ended up with a totally new up-to-date look for his building and his offices--one that he's still paying for, by the way. And he still has the same old tired ideas for lingerie: still way behind the times. Which made him even _more_ depressed."

"Can't say as I blame him for that! I'm sorry we used to make fun of him," Tina admitted guiltily. "He's been really great hiring me on--and I'm getting much more than those crooks at EE Martin paid me. He's taken you and given you the chance to live your dream! And he's offered to help the girls get new jobs! We've _gotta_ help him turn this around, Stevie!"

"We're _going_ to, I promise you that! Our brain-storming session with the girls yesterday afternoon was our opening salvo!" I pointed to the detailed reports on my desk, which I was ready to share with my new employer when we met later in the morning. "We have to convince him to take his company in a whole new direction, Tina! I've got all of the ammunition right here. I want you to sit in on the meeting with me. After all, you and I are his target market, as well as his employees!"

"Do you think he'll go for it, though? It's a big step to expect him to take."

"I think he will. You know, he's told me a lot about how his company first got started, something like 40 years ago. He fell in love with a woman named Marguerite Delgado, who designed lingerie for a company in Manhattan. Remember Hayes-Davis? They went out of business awhile back."

"I do remember them, vaguely. They were pretty big there for awhile, weren't they?"

"Yeah, they were--due to her designs, for the most part. But they weren't willing to give her the credit she deserved for her work. So she was looking around for another company to go to--and she met Dawson at some industry function. They got to talking, and he offered her a job in his young company. The rest, as they say, was history. They fell in love, got married a year later. And she was his partner in the company for almost 22 years--until she died of cancer 16 years ago. They didn't have any children. He says, basically the business _was_ their child: they built it up from almost nothing. Poured every bit of their time and energy into it: she was the creative design half; he was the practical manufacturing half. It was a true partnership in every way. And when he lost her, the spark went out for him."

"How sad." Tina sighed, "And how romantic!"

"It is both of those things," I agreed, "He couldn't bring himself to take on a new partner, he said. Instead, he just kept on selling her designs--or variations on them--and as time went by, he fell further and further behind in what women wanted to buy."

"Thus the 'granny panties' we all made fun of him for," Tina said softly. "I feel like such a bitch for saying those things, Stevie."

"We _all _said them. And it's true: he _is _designing for an outdated market," I reminded her, "He did his best for years to try to figure out what women _did _want to buy. But he's not gifted in the creative design part of the business: that was his late wife's talent. He can recognize a winning design when he sees it--when someone else draws it. So when I sketched those designs for him, they just jumped off the page for him, he says. And he started throwing out production ideas then. Good ones, too."

"Did you show him those new designs of yours? The ones you did the other night? They were so good!"

"Thanks! Yeah, I took him the whole sketchbook of designs when I stopped in here on Thursday afternoon," I confided, "And he went _crazy_ for them! He's putting them into production immediately--he just told me the news this morning! He was as excited as a kid in a candy factory when I showed him those sketches. It was _amazing_, Tina: we just bounced ideas back and forth, and it was like we'd been working together for years. And I have even _more_ ideas to show him later today. It's like my brain is crammed with designs that all want to come out and play!"

"Because you've got the same kind of creative spark his late wife had," Tina nodded her understanding, "That's why he offered you the job on the spot!"

"That's why," I confirmed, "And you and the girls saw my designs and loved them."

"We did. All of us said so."

"And _we're_ his target market. With these strategies we've put together," I pointed again to the reports that my friends had drawn up and delivered to me over Chinese take-out yesterday afternoon, "Dawson's company can be on top again in no time! He's just got to re-focus his business. Stop doing things the way they've always been done. He needs to embrace change, and step into a brave new world!"

"He needs to learn how to fly," Tina smiled, "Who better to teach him how to do that than our very own Wonder Woman?"

I grinned. "That's _exactly_ why I want you at the meeting, Tina! We're going to give that man the sales pitch of his life!"

And we did. Three hours later, gathered around the desk in my conference room, we held the meeting that changed everything for Dawson Books Designs. To say the man in question was dumb-founded was an understatement. He looked like he'd been knocked side-ways, then picked up and knocked side-ways again. But he was clearly loving every moment of it!

Tina, as I'd encouraged her to, had chimed in with her ideas as well. She backed up my argument that he'd been targeting sales to the wrong customers for years. And the more she and I talked, the happier Dawson got. I could see the wheels turning in his mind, and I knew that we'd closed the sale.

"I really can't thank your friend enough for this," he paged through the multi-page report that Melinda had painstakingly compiled for him, using detailed demographic charts, "To think that Miss Walker would do all this work for me when she wasn't getting anything out of it herself--"

"Melinda wants Stevie--I mean, _Stephanie_--to succeed here in her new career," Tina said, "We all do. And Melinda said that she wanted to show her appreciation to you for volunteering to use your contacts to find her a new job."

"She's more than welcome! Anything I can do to help Stephanie's friends, I'm more than willing to do. But this! This report is _invaluable_! I suppose I should have been on top of this kind of thing all along. In the old days, I would have been. But quite honestly, I just---well, it never occurred to me to get this information together anymore. Things have changed so much from what they used to be! This report lays it out so clearly."

"That's Melinda's field of expertise," I reiterated, "She's got a masters' degree in Marketing, and she knows how to sell. And to whom. You can take those numbers to the bank--_literally_. Those are your customers, Dawson--or at least, they _should_ be."

"They _can_ be," Tina nodded, "That's where the money is, alright. Those women have the income to spend on lingerie of the quality that Stevie--I mean, Stephanie--has designed. Melinda did those kind of reports for EE Martin for _years--_but no matter what she tried to tell them, they didn't want to make any changes to their target market. Too lazy."

"Too busy laundering Mob money," Dawson speculated, "They didn't want to rock the boat, I guess. Or else they were too cash-strapped to take a leap of faith. Or too set in their old-fashioned stodgy ways. Well, _I'm_ not going to make that same mistake." He smiled broadly, "I'm going to use the information. _All_ of it! That's a promise."

Tina and I shot each other victorious looks. We'd guessed right: he was hungry for change! Hiring me had been proof of it. Now it was up to us to show him how far he could take things.

"We had a brain-storming session at my apartment yesterday, as I said. Everyone pitched in," I handed him another folder that Amanda had contributed to our project, "Melinda's just shown you who your customers should be. Amanda McCord has put together a report on the most up-to-date way of reaching those customers."

Dawson devoured her report, his blue eyes sparkling in delight. "This is _incredible_! This is more than I could ever have imagined! Are you sure this will work?"

"Absolutely: use the internet! Yes, certainly, you still want your products out there in the stores. But women today don't always have the time to get out to the mall. They're much more comfortable with buying off the internet than ever before. And they can do that from the comfort of their own home, at any hour of the day or night. Or from work, for that matter. You need your own website, Dawson. Obviously, the domain name is available. You should buy it up immediately, and use it. Amanda's put together the numbers for you: you'll see how much money is projected from internet sales alone. The internet shopper is a huge market, and again--you've been ignoring her for years. So have your direct competitors, for the most part."

"Good God! These are high numbers!" The poor man looked stunned. But thrilled, nonetheless!

"She's also got projections of the costs involved in setting up the site. Amanda's really tech savvy; she knows what questions to ask web designers. And what bells and whistles are worth having on a website--and which aren't. You'll get good value for the money you spend on developing the site: guaranteed."

"And again, Miss McCord did all this work for me, for nothing?"

"My friends are good people, Dawson. They want to repay you for your offer to help them find employment. Not everyone would have done that for them. They're grateful."

"This has more than paid me back, Stephanie. These two reports alone are pure gold! And you have still _more_ for me?"

"My friend Kelly Olson has a graphic design background; she's worked on catalogs for EE Martin for the last 6 years. She has suggestions for you on setting up your own catalog, to work in tandem with the internet sales." I handed him Kelly's report, "That's another untapped market for you: catalog shoppers. Those customers who prefer to shop by mail rather than internet can request a catalog by clicking a button on your website. They provide their information, and you ship out a catalog to them. You can also build a mailing list from your internet customers--or buy pre-made lists from providers. Kelly's got a number of suggestions on where to get the lists, and how much to pay for them. And you'd use the demographic information from Melinda's report so that you buy the right lists."

"It's a whole new way of doing business these days, isn't it?" he said quietly, "I'm used to getting out there and knocking door-to-door. Making cold calls and being fortunate now and again to get an appointment instead of the usual hang-ups. And I'm getting too old for that kind of thing. Particularly when I don't have anything that anyone wants to buy these days."

"Well, you'll have things that people want to buy _now_," Tina responded, firmly. "Stevie's---I mean--Stephanie's--"

"_Stevie_ will do," he laughed, "I'm used to it, if Stephanie is."

"I am," I grinned, "I'm so used to _Stevie_ from Tina, that I wouldn't know what to answer to if she didn't call me that."

Tina laughed merrily, "_Stevie's_ designs are going to have people coming to you, not you going to them. Trust me! We saw them yesterday afternoon for the first time, and we'd have bought them all if they were available. She's really fabulous at this whole design thing!"

"For someone who has no training, you mean," I qualified, smiling.

"For _anyone_," Dawson corrected me, "There are people who've studied for years--and worked in this industry for decades--who don't have that natural ability you have. It's quite remarkable, Stephanie! And I'm damned good and lucky that you took that pencil of yours to my sketches and showed me what good design is. Because, God knows, it's been sadly lacking in this company since my dear Maggie passed on so many years ago."

"Well, it's not lacking any more," I replied, "You're going to be up to your ears in designs, Dawson, I promise you that. I've got another dozen or so in my head that I haven't had time to put down on paper yet. And more ideas on who to target them to."

"And what's _that_ report?" He asked, as I handed him yet another folder.

"This is Ruby Alston's contribution: she wanted to be a part of our project, as well. Ruby's an older woman--and a plus-sized woman, as well. She did some research, and came up with the numbers on a market that's been almost totally ignored by most manufacturers for years. A very _lucrative _market, too: plus-sized women! As Ruby says, not every woman is a size S-L. The average dress size in the US in 2008 is a 14/16. And that number is growing every year. Just because a woman is full-figured doesn't mean she doesn't want to look--and feel--_sexy_! And sexy doesn't mean trashy, either: we should use quality fabrics, and rely on the cut of the design to slim her."

Tina chimed in, "And not just for plus-sizes, but for all women: you should use _vibrant_ colors for lingerie, not just your usual palette of white, black, nude and pastel pink. Women love _color_! And colors change with the season. The more colors available in a style, the more a woman will buy. She'll buy matching sets, too--so you'll sell more than she went out shopping for originally."

"Exactly! And as Melinda's report showed, you should be targeting your sales to those women with the discretionary income to buy lingerie made of _quality_ fabrics, not cut-rate synthetics." I continued, "That way you can sell to upscale stores like Macy's, Nordstrom's, and Bloomingdale's. Not to your current market, those who shop at EE Martin's, Target and K-Mart. You want to regain your reputation for really high-quality merchandise, not for low-end cheap lingerie that falls apart after a few dozen washings."

"You can always sell them on the fact that the lingerie will last longer," Tina pointed out, "They may pay more up front, but they'll get their money's worth out of it because it's going to last. Plus they'll feel much better wearing it. Those synthetics are itchy as hell. And do something about the wear-tags, please! It drives women _crazy _to have those things scratching their necks!"

"We expand the range of the line, as well," I pushed over a number of new sketches, "Target new customers of _all ages_! Lingerie is not just underwear anymore: women wear camisoles peeking out of their jackets, to feel feminine. Give them new styles and colors! They change into loungewear when they're relaxing at home; they want to be casual, yet still be able to answer the door and look fabulous!"

"And women don't want to sacrifice comfort, either: give them a way to look sexy and stylish, but feel breathable fabrics against their skin," Tina interjected.

I nodded, "Go after women of every age-range, as I said: just because a woman is older, doesn't mean she doesn't want lingerie that flatters her. You can do age-appropriate without aging her."

"No more granny panties," Dawson smiled, "I get it, trust me."

"We give women a choice of styles for their panties," I urged, "We don't limit the choice to one or two styles, either. Women buy different styles for of panties for different clothes. We need to sell briefs, bikinis, boyshorts, hip-huggers, cheekies, thongs--"

"Thongs?" Dawson looked horrified at the prospect.

"_Thongs_," I repeated. "Not every woman will buy them, but some will. You're cutting your market dramatically if you don't give women a _wide_ choice. Same with bras: you don't just offer a half-dozen models and have done with it. No way! Women want a _wardrobe_ of bras, not just the same old, same old. You give them dozens and dozens of styles to choose from. In dozens of colors. Trust me: they'll buy them."

"There are _dozens _of styles of bras?" he looked dismayed. "Really?"

"I'd ask where have you been all this time," I said softly, "But then, you're signing my paycheck these days…"

"I've just been coasting," he admitted, a pained expression on his face. "I've been out-of-touch and lazy! And that stops _now_! You women have opened up my eyes to a lot of things. You and Tina and your friends. This is my chance to move the company into the 21st century, at last. I'm going to do it, and I'm going to need help to get it done."

"That's why we're here," I said.

"Absolutely," Tina concurred. "And glad to be!"

"I need to do some serious thinking. And take action before it's too late," Dawson said quietly. "Candidly, ladies: do you think I could afford these friends of yours if I asked them to come and work for us? Melinda, Amanda, Kelly and Ruby. And whoever else worked with you on this project?" He leafed through the remaining reports as Tina and I looked at each other, stunned.

"Come work for _you_, you mean," I corrected, when I finally regained the power of speech. "It's _your_ company, Dawson, not ours. You know what you can afford. And yes, candidly: I think you _could_! EE Martin is out of business now. The economy isn't great anyway. And they all need jobs--badly. And health benefits, certainly. Offer them a decent salary with benefits, and they'd jump at the chance. I guarantee it."

"I have room for them," he mused. "I've been losing workers who've hit their retirement age. And others. Anyone really ambitious has left me years ago. And now I can clearly see why. I can have some space on the first floor re-configured to give them offices. And I can get very creative with numbers---if your friends are flexible."

"Meaning what?" Now he'd lost me. _Flexible?_

"I can take these reports to the bank, you said. And you're right: I can. _Literally. _I can get a line of credit using these figures--even in this economy. It's tough, I won't lie to you. But it's do-able. I'm thinking this--and I'm going to be straight with you, because you've been more help to this old fossil than he had any reason to hope for." Dawson scribbled a few numbers on paper, and pushed them over to us. "Can I get them on board with a salary like this?"

Holy shit! It was just about what they'd been making at EE Martin. Tina and I held our breath. Our eyes met. "With benefits?" I asked, biting my lip, hopefully.

"The same benefits you two have," he nodded, "It's peanuts, I know, compared to what they're worth, based on the work I've seen from them. But I can re-negotiate salaries once the sales start to kick in from your designs. I'm not forgetting you, either, Stephanie. I can't sit back and do to you what Hayes-Davis did to my Catherine. I won't. I'm not that kind of man. Your designs--your energy--they are what's going to keep my company alive for years to come. I'm not going to take advantage of you."

"You're not taking advantage of me," I protested, eyes widening. My God! The man was paying me double what EE Martin had given me, and then some. And he thought he was taking advantage of me?

"Your value to this company--especially after this presentation--is much more than that of an employee, Stephanie. And I'm not going to sit here and pretend otherwise. What would you say to a junior partnership? Say, 40%?" He held up his hand as I searched for words. I was completely speechless. And for me, that's something. "Hear me out before you answer yes or no."

Tina looked like she'd been hit on the head with a shovel. I saw her eyes widen, and I knew she was thinking the same thing I was--this had to be a dream!

"You're offering me a partnership in your company?" I finally squeaked.

"You can discuss it with your attorney, of course," he assured me, "I'm not going to try to play games with you. I'm not that type of man, Stephanie. Never have been. Your designs are going to send this company's net worth soaring. We all know it. I don't want you taking your new line to another company in a few years because you're not getting the recognition you deserve here. I've built this business from the ground up, and I have no children to pass it on to. Without your contributions, I'm not going anywhere but out of business. I can offer you 40% now, and we can agree to re-negotiate the percentages in mid-2009."

"30%," I blurted, a thought forming in my head. I examined it for a few minutes as Dawson sat incredulous. Damn! It would work! "I'll take _30%_. And we renegotiate that percentage in June of next year, as you suggested."

"You only want 30%? But I don't understand---"

"You take that extra 10%, and you give those shares to Tina and my other friends," I proposed. "You said yourself that you wanted to offer them a better deal. This way you _can_! Give them the salary you suggested--with benefits--and sweeten the deal for them with a share of the company profits. 2% for Tina. 1% for each of the others. There are 8 really talented women who are out of a job, Dawson. They all worked with Tina and me on this project. Give them a job, with benefits, at that salary--and sweeten the deal with that 1% each and the promise of a salary re-negotiation when the company gets back on its feet. And I'll sign on the dotted line in a heartbeat."

"You're willing to give that 10% up to your friends?" He looked amazed. "Are you _sure_?"

"Stevie!" Tina wiped a tear from her eye, and her mouth widened as it sunk in to her what had just happened. "_Omigod_! _Omigod_!"

"I'm _positive_! The company needs more than just my design ideas, Dawson. It needs new blood--and it needs the kind of valuable expertise that my friends can offer. You can find them other jobs in the industry--but then they'd be working for your competition. Taking _them_ to the top, instead of _you_. You're smarter than that, aren't you?"

He grinned, "Well, when you put it _that_ way…"

"Is that a yes?" I asked, my own grin firmly in place by now.

"That's a _definite_ yes! How soon can you get them here?"

"How soon do you want them?"

"Let me make a few calls to the bank, and to my attorney," he picked up the reports and stood to leave. "Can you have your friends fax over their resumes to HR tomorrow afternoon? I can get a letter offer in place for them to consider by end of day Wednesday. If things go as I think they will, they can start next Monday. And I can have something for you to show your attorney by Thursday. How does that sound?"

"It sounds great," I offered my hand and we shook solemnly, "I'll get on the phone and start delivering the news right now. You won't be sorry, Dawson. I promise you."

"I'm already more than ecstatic, Stephanie," he said quietly, "My gut's already told me that you're the best thing that's happened to me since my dearest Maggie. And now, after seeing you put your friends' welfare ahead of your own financial interests, I know damned well I was right about you. You're a class act, Stephanie Plum."

"Back at you, Dawson Books," I replied softly, "Here's to a long and successful partnership."

"Does that mean we get to go back to _Rosa's_ to celebrate?" he teased, "I had my eye on a few things on that menu."

"Why not? I'm always in the mood for a good meal!"

Dawson laughed, and I swear I heard him whistling happily on his way out of the office.

There was a moment of silence as the door closed behind him.

"What the hell just happened?" Tina asked, still in shock.

"I think we just started our trip to the top," I replied. "Together!"

Then we jumped up and down and did the girlie scream!


	61. Chapter 61

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. Hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 61

I'd taken Mateo by total surprise later that afternoon when I'd called him with the news that I was--in just a matter of a few short days--morphing from an employee of Dawson Books Designs into a junior partner. I'd recounted the deal I'd made in detail, and alerted him that he would be hearing from Dawson's attorney Peter Swifford again with more legal papers to examine for me. When he'd heard that I'd volunteered to give up a 10% share to be divided among my friends, there was a long moment of silence.

Then he said quietly, "Carlos would be very proud of you, Stephanie. He values loyalty very highly. Perhaps more than you know, given how constrained he's forced to be about his military background and the work he does. He's found himself a very remarkable woman in you. The more I get to know you, the more I realize that."

"I miss him so much," I admitted softly, "I'm spending as much time as I can trying to keep my mind focused on other things--the new job, the wedding plans. So I don't go completely insane with worry about what he's doing right now, where he is, if he's alright. Carlos wouldn't want me to agonize over his mission, I know that. And after all, he's Superman: he's going to be alright! He _has_ to be! He's going to be back in my arms again on April 6th, 2010. And we're going to be married in June and live happily ever after with tons of kids and grandkids. _That's_ what's going to happen. And so I keep reminding myself that he promised me a future together, and he's a man of his word. And I wait…"

"He's the best at what he does," Mateo responded, "And believe me, Carlos is nothing if not single-minded in his determination to get back and start a life together with you, Stephanie. So I think you're right to plan on him beating the odds. He will. When he _does_ get back, he's going to find you've proven yourself Wonder Woman in ways that I think will have surprised even you."

"Yeah, that's for sure," I laughed, "I just have all this creative energy--and now I'm focusing it on making everything I see in my head happen for real! Which reminds me: Dawson wants to go back to _Rosa's_ to sign the new contracts."

"_Dawson_ wants to? Or _you _want to?" he questioned.

"Both," I confessed, "Actually, Dawson suggested it first, because he enjoyed the food so much the last time. But even if he hadn't, _I _would have. I told you, Carlos is in my thoughts all the time, even with all that's going on with my new career. Whenever I go to _Rosa's_, I somehow feel more connected to him. When I talk to Papa and Alejandro, and you. And I _need_ that."

"That's understandable," he said, kindly, "After all, I was there that night, remember? Although I doubt you saw anyone but Carlos! It was a very emotional evening, for both of you. You have very happy memories of a romantic dinner and dancing, so I can see why you'd want to revisit _Rosa's _now and again. And why you'd feel drawn there, especially with all that you're going through right now."

"Is Alejandro feeling better? When I talked to Papa Saturday night---"

"Wait! You were at _Rosa's _this past Saturday night?" he was clearly surprised. "I had no idea you were planning on going back there so soon."

"A combination birthday celebration and girls night out! My friends Tina and Mary Lou--you met them Saturday morning, remember?--took me out for a special birthday celebration that evening. We did the whole birthday cake thing, too: singing, blowing out candles. You know, all that really-embarrassing-to-do-in-public stuff! And then before we left, Papa's mother came over to say hello and wish me a happy birthday."

"She did _what_? You've met Abuela Rosa?" No longer just surprised, the poor man sounded absolutely stunned.

"Briefly. _Very_ briefly! I don't speak very much in the way of Spanish, so Tina had to translate for me."

"Abuela Rosa doesn't speak any English, I'm afraid."

"She was very sweet: she wished me a happy birthday; many blessings upon me. Something like that. I was glad to meet her, but I didn't get to say anything in return. She took me by complete surprise: one minute she was there, the next she was gone! _Poof! _Like smoke!"

"Really? Well, well…she's full of surprises, all right! Did my uncle see this happen, by the way?"

"No, come to think of it: Papa was back in the kitchen by then. But I did notice that she'd been sitting with some other women at the table next to us all evening, having dinner. And I did see Papa go over to talk with her when they were getting ready to leave. He and I chatted briefly when the waiter brought my birthday cake, and he mentioned Alejandro was out with a stomach virus."

"Then Abuela Rosa came over to your table before she left? After my uncle had gone back to the kitchen?"

"Yeah, it was very nice of her to take the time," I repeated, "When you speak with her next, please tell her thank you for the good wishes."

They had to mean that she'd forgiven me for using the parking lot of her family's restaurant as a passion pit with Carlos! I'd come to that happy conclusion when I'd realized this was the woman who'd shaken him up so much that he'd driven from the restaurant back to the hotel like a bat out of hell, and gotten so jumpy about it afterwards. I guess we hadn't shocked her that badly--although Carlos had seemed to think we would.

From the twinkle in her eye and the huge smile she'd given me Saturday evening, I somehow thought that, as a woman, she applauded my excellent taste in men. Just because she was elderly didn't mean she couldn't appreciate a damned fine-looking man….my over-sexed Grandma Mazur was a perfect example. Well, maybe not a _perfect_ example: Rosa may have had a twinkle in her eye, but I didn't exactly see her as the registered sex offender type. Perhaps just a bit more adventurous than Carlos imagined!

Mateo and I chatted a bit longer; he promised to get right on the partnership papers as soon as they arrived, so that the Stephanie Plum Wonder Woman Express could keep on rolling. Then he updated me on the progress of the annulment: Dickie had signed the necessary affidavits, and he'd actually flat-out admitted to committing fraud! I didn't know--or care--what had precipitated his uncharacteristically stepping forward and taking full responsibility for the mess that had been our brief marriage. But I was happy to hear that this meant that the annulment would be fast-tracked. In Mateo's estimation, it would come through the first week or so of December. I thought of it as an early Christmas present, and I was very grateful for the news.

And--not surprisingly--I wasn't the only grateful one this afternoon: I made 8 back-to-back phone calls to my beyond ecstatic friends with the unexpected news that Dawson Books wanted to hire them immediately, based solely on the work they'd done for the presentation. I'd never gotten so many '_thank you's_' and '_omigods_' and '_are you kidding me's?_' in my life.

Then I'd hit them with the news of my junior partnership and their 1% ownership of the company--and by then the decibel level of the conversations was pretty much blown off the map! There were tears, there were girlie screams, there were even a few '_this can't be happening's!_' But it was. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and we all knew it. They were all pumped up and ready to hit the ground running: I knew our Monday morning meeting would be chock full of productive ideas. And I was certain that we'd be taking the company--and the industry--by storm.

My last call had been to Stella, newly-returned from her Ireland honeymoon with Patrick O'Reilly. Her mother had phoned her in Dublin immediately once the FBI raid had made the television news. Stella had wasted no time in calling me for a full report, wanting full details on the raid itself as well as the scoop on my _You Tube_ sensation of a resignation. We'd stayed in close touch since then. When she'd heard that the gang and I were going to have a brain-storming session, and that everyone was contributing reports to ensure my success at the company, Stella had fired up her lap-top and done her own report. She'd emailed it to me, and I'd printed it out and included it in the package that had so dazzled Dawson.

To hear now that she not only had gotten a job offer out of it--at a salary remarkably close to that of her hated EE Martin job--_with benefits_--but also had a financial share in the success of the company, was more than Stella could process. She kept sniffling, and finally confided that she'd been so stressed about the financial repercussions of losing her job that she and Patrick hadn't been able to fully enjoy the last few days of their honeymoon.

"Patrick kept telling me not to worry, that I'd find another job. But I just couldn't think of who'd want to hire me after the FBI raid! All I could think was, they'd see on my resume that _I_ was the office manager, and so they'd assume that I _must_ have known that the EE Martin partners were crooks. And no one would want me working for them after _that_!"

"Stella, honey, you're the best at what you do," I assured her, "You kept us sane in that place: any company would be damned good and lucky to have you working for them. And no one with a brain in their head would think for one minute that you knew anything illegal was going on!"

"You're the best, Steph! Really, the absolute _best_! I'm going to call Patrick right now and tell him the news. And he's going to be _so_ happy! Thank you so much! I can't believe it! _Omigod! _We were planning to look at houses next month. But I was thinking that we'd have to give that dream up and stay put in the apartment---"

"Well, get your resume fax'd over here to that number I gave you just as soon as you can, honey. And Dawson will have the job offer letter ready for you by close of the day Wednesday. He's a good man, Stella. He and I have been talking, and we really have a _fabulous_ opportunity to take this company higher than he's ever imagined. And I _know _we all can do it!"

By the time I'd hung up, I had gotten Mateo yet _another_ client! As Dawson had suggested, I'd told all of my friends to be certain to have their attorneys look over the 1% ownership papers when they received them. They'd asked for the name of my attorney, since I'd been so enthusiastic about him. And I'd been more than delighted to recommend Mateo Herrera…..

By the time the day was over, I was exhausted--but in a good way! I felt productive, I felt valued, I felt like nothing was impossible! Then I got home and found that Carlos knew me better than I'd even imagined: there was a knock upon my door just as I'd emerged from the bedroom in my most comfortable clothes. Imagine my surprise and delight to find a messenger from Dipaolo Bros. Bakery in Newark with a box containing a mouth-watering pineapple upside-down cake! The note-card attached was written in Carlos' distinctive hand-writing:

_Dearest Babe-_

_I'm willing to bet that the news of your engagement to me didn't sit too well with your Burg-loving mother. She's cut you off from her desserts until you see things her narrow-minded unimaginative way, hasn't she? Well, not to worry, Babe! Since you're my Wonder Woman, I'm quite confident that you're never going to back down--not even to get your notorious sweet-tooth satisfied! That meant I had to figure out a way to keep you happy for the next 18 months--and I have: Dipaolo Bros. has the best desserts--they've been supplying Rosa's and other restaurants in Newark for years. I've arranged to have a scrumptious dessert delivered to you every other week until I get back. First off is your absolute favorite! You can personalize the schedule however you'd like: they should send a brochure with the first order that will allow you to choose which desserts you want and in what order. If you want delivery on a particular day of the week, let them know. Hell, if you need dessert every week, let them know. The arrangements are flexible: I want you happy, Babe! I love you; I miss you desperately; and I'm coming back to you April 6__th__, 2010. Then I'm going to make you my wife, and work at satisfying those other appetites of yours…_

_Keep flying high!_

_Love always from your Superman,_

_Carlos_

_OMIGOD! _I did a happy dance, and excitedly cut a piece of the cake. It was just as delicious as he'd promised: who needed Ellen Plum's desserts when I had a supplier that would come right to my door with my necessary fortifications? This whole Wonder Woman bit was really working out well for me! I read and re-read Carlos' note, then called Mateo to report that the first delivery had come. As I suspected, he'd been with Carlos when the plans had been made. He laughed at my squeals of delight, and then I hit him with the news that he now had 8 more clients.

"Sounds like things are really rolling along there," Mateo whistled. "Thanks for the recommendations, Stephanie! I'd be more than happy to do what I can for your friends."

"Thanks! It was an absolutely _fabulous_ first official day! I have the most gorgeous office--you have to stop in and see it! After being chained deep inside the bowels of EE Martin in the tiniest little cubicle imaginable, I'm in Heaven now. And I get to do a job I love, with friends I love, and it just keeps getting better and better! Then I come home and find I'm set with cake after cake after cake for the next year and a half, so I can tell my mother what to do with her ultimatums and still be dessert blessed! Carlos is truly Superman!"

"He thought of nothing that whole day but making you happy," Mateo said quietly. "Everything was '_my Babe would love this_' and '_my Babe needs that_'. He was walking on air, Stephanie. I've never seen him so happy in all the years I've known him. I'm just glad that you two met and that you fell in love with each other. Because the more I get to know you, the more I'm certain you're perfect for each other."

"Me too," I sighed, "I know he's the only man I'll ever love. And I know we'll have that happily ever after. And when he comes back, he's going to be amazed at all that I've managed to accomplish. Because I promise you: we're taking Dawson Books Designs to the top!"

"I believe you! Peter Swifford called about an hour ago, and he's started work on the partnership papers. He's going to messenger them over to me as soon as they're ready. Then you and I can meet to discuss them. I'll give you a call--maybe I'll take you up on that invitation to stop buy and see your office!"

"Great! I'll expect your call, and then we can do the same as last time: have dinner with Dawson and Peter at _Rosa's _to sign the papers. How's that sound?"

"Perfect. I've got to take a call on the other line, but it's been great talking with you, Steph! Best of luck with the design work. And thanks for the recommendations!"

I hung up, and padded over to the kitchen table to check the pile of mail that I'd dumped there upon coming home. Phone bill, cable bill, gas and electric bill, Macy's charge card bill….GEEZ! Nothing but bills today! Wait! What was _this_? I tore open the legal sized envelope and began to read. SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! Pain in the ass, _why me_??

"So, anyway, Lou, I'm in a great mood, minding my own business, when WHAP! Life slaps me in the face!" I complained to my best friend as I re-read the legal notice that my apartment building had been sold, and we were now going condo!

"Well, at least you can afford to buy the unit, if you want it," she reminded me. "It's not like you're going to be out on the street, Steph!"

"I know, I know! But honestly--this place is so damned old and tiny, why the hell would I even _want_ to buy it? I'm going to go look at new apartments instead," I sighed dramatically, "I just don't need the frickin' _hassle_ now, that's all! I have other things on my mind. I was going to go car shopping, for one: that POS of mine is more than on its death-bed."

"So go apartment hunting! I'll go with you: it'll be fun! Tina will come too, we can make a big excursion out of it! Just like we did for the bridal shopping."

"Hopefully with better results," I groused, "And no stupid-ass magazine quiz on what my apartment style is, please."

"Brat!" She giggled, "That was a fun test."

"Fun? For whom? It told me nothing, except that I'm not the Beach Casual type. Which I already knew. Did I tell you about my desserts??"

I proceeded to do just that for the next 15 minutes--in explicit detail. Eating that wedge of pineapple upside-down cake had been akin to a religious experience. OK, so I love cake! Sue me!

Next up was a call to Tina, to whom I relayed the same information--and got _another_ enthusiastic offer of an apartment-hunting buddy. By the time we finished yakking, I was actually looking forward to moving. After all, Carlos would know where to find me when he returned: Mateo was his attorney and friend, and he'd know my address. There was no chance at all that things would get screwed up a la _An Affair To Remember_. I could still keep the same cell phone number. Still meet Carlos in room 407 of the Hilton Hotel on April 6th, 2010. And in the meantime, I'd have a new apartment with a lot more space. Bigger closets. A balcony that was bigger than a postage stamp and had a better view than the complex's garbage dumpster. Maybe a gas fireplace, as well? And hey, while I was in the day-dreaming mode: maybe I'd see if the bathtub had whirlpool jets? I'd be working hard at work, so I'd be ready to de-stress at the end of a long day!

I cut myself another slice of pineapple upside-down cake for dinner (_hey, it had fruit, so it was nutritious!_), and then logged onto the internet to check out what apartments were available in the area. An hour or so later, I'd found a dozen apartments that I was looking forward to visiting….

And then the phone rang, startling me so much that I almost spilled my mug of hot chocolate as I jumped about a foot in the air.

It took me a few minutes to recognize the weepy voice on the other end of the line: it was my oh-so-perfect sister Valerie. Who was clearly having serious marital problems with her not-so-perfect hubby Steve. The lying, cheating bastard! For the next 20 minutes Valerie was more than anxious to bend my ear with what was _really_ going on in that prestigious gated community in San Diego. The one my mother thought was the be-all and the end-all of a prized existence.

"So I finally have the proof he's been cheating on me! Even though he swore I was imagining the whole thing and that he was just tired and not in the mood to _you-know-what _because his job was stressing him out," she ranted, stopping frequently to blow her nose before she would draw a deep breath and begin another rant.

Geez, it was exhausting just to listen to her!

"You say you have proof he's cheating?" I asked, trying to get the story straight as she grew increasingly more incoherent. "_What_ proof? Did you see them together? Were they---"

"No, none of that! I have--I have---I have---" She dissolved into loud wails.

"You have _what_?" I couldn't imagine. "A hotel bill? Photos? A phone bill with a list of calls to her number?"

"I have--I have---"

"What?"

"Herpes!"

"_What?_"

"The bastard gave me _herpes_!"

"The son-of-a-bitch!" Even Dickie hadn't done that! Which was another thing to be grateful for.

"I haven't been with anyone else. Ever. And so he had to have gotten it from some other woman."

"Clearly. What did he say when you confronted him?"

There was a long silence. Then a few more sniffles.

"You _did _confront him, didn't you?"

More silence.

"Val, tell me you said _something_! The bastard gives you herpes, and you haven't murdered him? Let alone filed for divorce?"

"What would everyone say?"

_Oh for the love of God! _"Who cares what everyone says? You can't stay married to a guy who's cheating on you, Val! And you have proof of it! He can't deny the doctor's report: you got herpes from him, he got it from _someone_…."

"I don't even know who he's been seeing, I have no idea!"

"Well, right now, that doesn't matter. Have you been tested for other STDs? Did your doctor give you an HIV test?"

"OMIGOD!"

"Val, you _have_ to get tested. And you can't sweep this under the rug because you're worried about what people might say!" Namely, my _mother_. Ellen Plum would not be pleased to have a second daughter who couldn't keep a husband. And my sister didn't want to rock the boat--it was tough work being Mrs. Perfect, after all.

"You need to go get tested tomorrow, _promise me_!" I urged.

"I _can't_." It was a low moan. "Omigod, omigod!"

"Go to a different doctor, then. One that isn't in your community. Not that you should have to: there are confidentiality laws! No one is going to know you got tested, or what the results are. I promise you. But if you feel safer going to a new doctor, _fine_. Just _GO_! And as soon as you can. Meantime, you get yourself a lawyer, Val. He'll probably tell you to---"

"I just don't know what to do!" It was a full-fledged wail.

"I just _told_ you what to do," I pointed out, reasonably. "This is not optional, unfortunately. You need to protect your health, Val. No sex with Steve--not that you should be in the mood to have sex with the bastard anyway." But I could already hear my mother's useless marital advice: _buy a sexy negligee and seduce him and he'll forget all about this other woman._ Or women.

"I thought he might be seeing someone, but every time I said something, he kept denying it. I don't know who it could be, either. I have no idea who she is." She kept repeating variations of this, as if it really made any difference who the hell the woman was.

"Do you know a lawyer, Val? Someone you can trust to look out for your interests? It's best to get someone who isn't in your community, because they're probably all in the same Country Club with Steve."

"I don't know. I don't know who to even ask."

"Then call the state bar and ask for recommendations of a good divorce attorney. They should be able to give you a list of names, and---"

"On top of everything else, why _this_? As if things weren't bad enough already!"

My spidey sense went off, big time! "What do you mean, '_everything else_'? What else is going on?"

More silence. And a few more sniffles.

"Valerie, you tell me what else is going on there," I insisted. "What '_everything else_'?"

"The whole bank thing."

"What 'bank thing' are you talking about?" _Oh, shit. _This did _not _sound good at all.

"I bounced a check. Again this week."

"You're having money problems?" _How the fuck can they be having money problems? The man is a high-paid attorney in a prestigious law-firm!_

"No, Steve said the bank made a mistake. I just meant, it was one embarrassment after another."

"Oh, _Steve said_. That paragon of honesty. Well, gee, if _Steve_ said it, it must be true, right?" I rolled my eyes, and resisted the urge to jump through the phone and slap some sense into my whiney sister. "_Wait! _You said 'again'! This happened before?"

"Last week the check for Angie's ballet lessons bounced. I was _mortified_! I was picking her up and the receptionist said they needed to talk to me about paying my balance and I said _I had _and they said----"

"Never mind what _they _said," I interrupted, "What did the _bank_ say?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean, _you don't know_? Didn't you ask them?"

"Steve called them. They said it was a mistake, I guess."

"You _guess_? But you don't know for sure?"

"I told you: Steve called them."

"You need to go to the bank and find out what is going on there, Val! Don't trust Steve to handle this for you, because clearly the man can't be trusted as far as you can toss his cheating lying ass!"

"Why _me_?"

_Oh, for crying out loud!_ She sounded exactly like my mother.

"It's not _you_, it's _him_! He's a sad sorry sack of whale shit--and you need to stop whining about it. You need to go to the bank tomorrow first thing, and find out what the hell is going on with your finances. You probably haven't got a clue, do you? Steve handles the money, right?" Hell, it really wasn't a question. I know the Ellen Plum drill all too well: a man handles the money, a woman shouldn't trouble her pretty little head about important things like that.

"Right," she admitted, "Steve thinks---"

"Never mind what _he _thinks," I said, "It's time for _you_ to start thinking for a change, Val. You have to think about your welfare, and that of both of your girls! You go to the bank tomorrow, first thing. And you withdraw half of the money in that account and you open an account in another bank. One in _your_ name alone. And then you call the state bar and you get a recommendation of a good divorce attorney---or if you want, I can have my attorney get a name for you--"

"No, I can get one."

"OK, good. You tell the attorney about the bounced checks, and you have him look into things to ensure that your financial rights are protected. Then you make sure your health is protected. You make that doctor's appointment to be tested--"

"I will." Her voice sounded soft and hesitant. But at least she'd stopped sniveling.

"_Promise_?"

"Uh-huh."

"Pinky swear?"

"Uh-huh."

"Oh, God! I'm really sorry, Val! I know this has to be overwhelming for you, and it hurts like hell. Trust me, I know! But you need to suck it up and look out for your best interests, as well as for Mary Alice and Angie's. Mom is not going to be happy about all of this, but you have to do what is right for you. You need to be strong and---"

"_Omigod! _He's home! I just heard the car pull in! I've gotta go!" She sounded panicked.

"Call me, OK? Let me know how things go."

"Bye."

The phone call ended abruptly. I guess she didn't want Steve to catch her talking to anyone. Or maybe she had to run to the bathroom to fix her makeup before she could face him. Either way, I was pretty sure that things were going from bad to worse there right about now. I just hoped that Valerie could grow a back-bone and stand up to Steve for once. And to our mother, as well. Because no one could do it for her. And her daughters needed their mother to step up to the plate for _them_, as well as for _herself_!

I made myself another mug of hot chocolate, and walked over to the window, deep in thought. It just goes to show: you never really know what's going on inside someone else's seemingly perfect little home….


	62. Chapter 62

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. Hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 62

It really shouldn't have been a big surprise to me that Valerie didn't call me back, either that day or the next. I waited anxiously for a few days, and then phoned my sister to find out how things were going with her and the girls. I left a handful of messages, and she never returned any of them. Probably too busy following _The Ellen Plum Handbook For Marital Happiness_: the perfect pot roast, a cheerful plastic smile, and a lacy negligee. And her head firmly planted in the sand. I hoped to hell that Valerie had at least gotten an HIV test, but I really wasn't holding out much hope that she'd done anything at all except regret that she'd ever called me.

Speaking of the dreaded Ellen Plum: my mother called several times over the course of the next few weeks, her repeated summons to me to dine at Chez Plum becoming more urgent, and my polite refusals becoming more frequent. I'd gone once, if only to confirm my suspicions that she was now actively counseling my poor fool of a sister on how to win her cheating husband's attention back. Why Valerie would even _want _him back, I would never be able to understand. But that's just _me_, I guess: after all, Steve is an _attorney_. That apparently made all the difference in the world to my mother.

She'd pursed her lips tightly when I'd tried to talk some sense into her about Valerie's marital situation--and then she'd quickly changed the subject. _Did I know that Joseph had moved into a lovely little house he'd inherited from his late aunt Anna? It was over on Grove Street, just across from the most darling little park. Joseph was even thinking of getting a dog. Or so said his mother, Angie Morelli. _

Apparently this was taken as a positive sign by my mother that Morelli was indeed domesticated, and thus ready to slip a ring on some lucky woman's finger at the first opportunity. It certainly wasn't going to be _mine_. Hell, no! I felt no remorse at all about squashing that idea like the noxious bug that it was. My mother grew even more annoyed. She wasn't the only one. Even a free meal wasn't worth this aggravation…especially since I now had my own supplier of sugar-laden desserts.

My father, God bless him, was still holding steadfast on his refusal to allow Morelli at the Plum family dinner table--with me there or without. Or so my Grandma Mazur reported, when I'd taken her out for dinner to celebrate my new career. We'd gone to Red Lobster, my grandmother's favorite restaurant, where she'd proceeded to fill me in on the latest news on my life--courtesy of the ladies at the Clip n' Curl.

Yes, you heard me right: my life was being openly discussed and dissected by the ladies of the Burg as they gathered together to get their hair done and their nails polished. My smiling photo was hanging in the salon's window (courtesy of my grandmother and her trusty Pentax camera). A hand-made sign announced that I was the celebrated _You Tube _sensation 'the cake lady'--and I was one of their own. No matter that I wouldn't step into the Clip n' Curl without a gun to my head (and even then, I gotta tell you, that gun would be looking pretty damned tempting). Or that the last time I _had_, Clara--the salon's elderly owner--had given me a nightmare of a haircut that had me resembling something I'd seen once on a poodle who'd been caught in a hurricane. This was Life in the Burg as I knew it.

Which is why I'd finally grown a brain and abandoned my plans to apartment hunt anywhere near there. I'd gone on the hunt with Tina and Mary Lou two or three times, and I'd been less than impressed with anything I'd seen. The neighborhood was too familiar, the apartments too old and too cramped, and the people far too nosy. If I'd had one more person come up to me to snap my photo (without asking permission, mind you), or demand my autograph for a relative or for themselves, I was _not_ going to be held responsible for my actions. Nor was I enjoying their repeated requests for 'just a little of that funny song you sang on the desk'. Nope. I was ready for something new.

And I found it in the most unexpected way, as frequently happens to me. I'd signed the partnership papers the night before at _Rosa's_, and was starting the drive home after a long and very satisfying first week at Dawson Books Designs---soon to be relaunched as Books/Plum Designs, by the way. I had a sudden urge to take a left turn and try a new way home. Another break from the familiar.

Then I saw it: a newly-opened development of townhouses that just screamed my name. _Stephanie_, they cried, _pull in and just give us a chance to impress you! _Living in the Bel Aire Estates,I'd be closer to work--and farther away from the busybodies of the Burg. I'd own my own property, without having the non-stop maintenance responsibilities that single-home ownership required. And I'd be enjoying what the sign boasted was "True luxury living in comfortably elegant townhouses fully loaded with all the amenities you can imagine!". I had no clue what the hell 'comfortable elegance' entailed--but I was more than willing to find out! My financial circumstances had improved so much (and would only continue to get better) that I could now afford to load quite a few amenities into my new digs. And I had quite an imagination. Oh, yes, there was no doubt at all that I was more than ready for 'true luxury living'!

Thus it was that I gave in to the Siren's Song of real estate ownership. I swung my POS car into a sudden turn, ignoring the horns and Italian hand gestures that resulted, and moments later I pulled into the parking lot of the Sales Office, where festivities were in full swing. Balloons were everywhere, smiling faces were extolling the virtues of the townhouses, and brochures were being passed out freely. I climbed out of the car, snagged myself one of the over-sized colorful brochures, and headed off in the direction of the model townhouses, ready to be impressed.

And I was. _Majorly. _I spent the next two hours walking through almost a dozen model townhouses that had me tempted to whip out my checkbook and put down a deposit right then and there. But that, after all, would be foolish. Impulsive. Illogical. Reckless. Brash. Sensible Stephanie was jumping up and down, screaming, stamping her foot petulantly and demanding that I run like hell back to the safety of my Nova before I got myself into a real shit-load of trouble here. Wonder Woman, on the other hand, was loudly urging me to ignore the loud-mouth bitch, keep on looking, and treat my hard-working all-too-deserving self to all the 'true luxury' I could find. It was pretty much a toss up on which side of me was winning…until I got to the Coronado model, that is.

It was love at first sight, the likes of which I'd never before felt for a mere building composed of weather-resistant taupe-colored siding and cultured stone. I stood in front of the two-level two-garage townhouse, a goofy smile plastered on my face, my love-struck eyes tenderly gazing at every single square inch of the 3,645 square feet of immaculately-landscaped primo grade-A real estate that now beckoned me to enter. The fact that the door and the shutters of the townhouse were painted in a deep rich shade of plum only reinforced my feeling of personal entitlement.

This particular Coronado model stood proudly on the outer left side of a row of three townhouses. It had, according to the brochure, no less than 4 spacious bedrooms and 3.5 baths. _Why the hell do you need 4 spacious bedrooms?, _Sensible Stephanie demanded irately. _Because 'true luxury' wouldn't be satisfied with just 2 measly little bedrooms_, Wonder Woman argued right back at her. _DUH! _Wonder Woman had a valid point there, I decided. So I got myself in gear and walked up the curving stone pathway to the covered porch, where I opened the front door that promised to make all of my dreams come true.

The minute I stepped into the dramatic entry foyer, I knew that I _had_ to have it. I stood frozen in place for a few moments, not even realizing that I'd suddenly stopped breathing. My jaw had dropped to the ivory-colored tiled floor, and I'd already gotten a mental image of how downright decadent it would feel to come home at the end of a long day to this not-so-little slice of absolute Heaven on Earth. I think I actually might have drooled a little bit. More than a little bit, if you want the absolute truth.

The open and airy dining room was to my left, tastefully decorated in shades of ivory and sage. At 14'x17' (according to the brochure), it was big enough to fit a table for eight and still allow room enough to move around comfortably. It boasted a spectacular tray ceiling and a bay window that had me envisioning myself hosting dinner parties for all of my friends. OK, so they'd have to make do with the fact that I can't really cook worth crap--but at least they'd feel elegantly comfortable sitting in here while I tried. Or comfortably elegant. _Whatever. _The point was, I could--for the first time in my life--actually see myself looking forward to entertaining guests in my own very dining room. Maybe I'd even pick up a cookbook and put some effort into doing the whole pot roast thing now and again. Hell--_you know what?_--forget the damned pot roast! A room this grand deserved nothing less than filet mignon!

Lost in thought, I walked slowly across the pecan hardwood floor and into a kitchen that would make even Wonder Woman want to try her hand as a Domestic Goddess now and again. At 12'x16', it dwarfed the size of my current kitchen. And it was so damned elegant that I straightened my posture instinctively as I leisurely examined rich deep cabinets reminiscent of the color of Carlos' eyes when he was really aroused. I could see myself in this kitchen--and not just nuking frozen dinners, either. Looks like I was going to be in the market for _several _cookbooks. Hmmmm. Maybe I could convince Papa to give me a few tips, once Alejandro regained his supremacy in _Rosa's_ kitchen? It was worth a try, I decided.

Two stools congregated by the bar as I moved into the 12'x11' breakfast nook, which overlooked an enclosed deck just slightly larger in size. Opening the sliding glass door, I peeked outside, marveling at an expanse of beautifully landscaped lawn with more trees than I'd ever seen in one place in any residential neighborhood. I wonder if they allow dogs here? I could take her for long walks and we could exercise together. Then we could sit out on the deck and I could have coffee and sketch, while my little dog could lay happily by my side and enjoy Nature at its finest. Where in the hell I'd gotten the sudden desire to own a dog, I had no clue. But I examined the idea again, and decided that maybe I was ready to nurture more than just my little Rex. After all, I had to practice the whole motherhood thing for those mocha latte colored children Carlos and I were going to be having one day…

As impressive as the other rooms had been--and they were--nothing had fully prepared me for the imposing family room, with its entire wall of two-story windows. I stood mesmerized, imagining how gorgeous it would look in here with the sunshine streaming in: the green of the lush landscaping perfectly complimenting the ivory/sage tones in which the room was decorated. A tastefully elegant white fireplace dominated one wall of the room; and I found myself grinning like a fool. I'd always wanted a fireplace of my own! Oh, I could _so_ see myself curled up on the sofa and enjoying the warmth and beauty of a maintenance-free gas fireplace on frigid winter nights. I checked the brochure again: an 18'x19' family room? Omigod! I had to pinch myself to believe this whole thing was real. 'Comfortable elegance', huh? Yeah. It damned sure was _that_!

Moving through the hall, I turned to my left, opening white French doors into the study a few moments later. And this was not just _any _study, mind you! Oh, no! The fireplace in the family room had been a see-through model--which meant that the study too had its own gas fireplace. This truly was an abundance of riches! There was natural light from windows on the adjoining wall, and built-ins that had me envisioning myself firing up my laptop and taking on the world from my study, as my fireplace illuminated the room and bathed me in warmth! At 11'8"x14', the room was bigger than my current bedroom and bath combined. There were no words. None.

Back into the hallway again. I couldn't wait to see my master bedroom and bath! It had to be large enough to throw a dance in! I was walking with a spring to my step, and it suddenly occurred to me that I'd already started thinking of this as _mine_. My study. My fireplace. My master bedroom and bath.

Then I saw it. The true mark of luxury living: my very own elevator! Holy moly macarolli! There it stood, just outside the study, right beside my really-quite-charming powder room and my very own laundry room. No more fighting with other tenants over the limited numbers of working washers and dryers available. Nah-uh. Not anymore! I'd do laundry at my own convenience, and not have to worry that Mrs. Kissler was going to pull out my still-wet clothes and shove her load of wash in while my back was turned.

I opened another door and discovered the entrance to the two-car garage. My POS car was going to be living in style, as was I. Especially since I wasn't going to be able to replace it anytime soon if I used the cash I'd been saving for a new car to put a deposit on the townhouse instead. But why buy a new car and park it out in the elements, and then have to worry about someone stealing it or vandalizing it while I was unaware? This way, at least I could keep my pathetic little Nova housed inside and not have to scrape off endless ice and snow in the upcoming winter. The car's battery would probably last longer too, I argued. So what if my neighbors talked about me behind my back and wondered how I could drive that old POS and still afford a luxury townhouse? My neighbors in the Burg talked about me all the time, it was nothing I wasn't used to. And before long, my royalties would be coming in, and I'd be able to afford to make car payments and pay my mortgage at the same time. I could be patient until then.

Wending my way up the staircase lined with black iron balustrades, I paused to marvel at the view from the upper level. That family room was stunning, there was no other word for it! I pulled out the brochure and checked to see in which direction to head in order to find the master bedroom and bath. Take a right, then another right. Here I come!

Oh. My. God. The dramatic tray ceiling was the first thing that my eyes went to, and they widened in awe. Then the enormous size of the room hit me: 14'8"x 20'4". Three windows would give plenty of natural light to the room. I wandered around slowly, the soft sage green and ivory colors washing over me. The room was absolutely beautiful. A hardwood floor peeked out from around an area rug that was perhaps just a bit too green for my taste. But everything else was perfect. I opened the closet door, and damn near orgasmed on the spot: there was a fully-configured closet that had to be one-third the size of the room! My clothes and my shoes were going to be living in comfortable elegance, as well. It was too spectacular for words.

The master bath was enormous, of course. How could it not be? A soaking tub with whirlpool jets occupied the left-hand corner of the room invitingly, and next to it stood a separate shower that looked to be the size of my current bedroom's closet. A double sink stretched against the wall, leading to a toilet that was set in its own separate room. A linen closet shared the space.

I checked out the hallway, finding my own private elevator next to the master bath. _Of course it was. _The smallest of the three remaining bedrooms was next. If you want to call 11'2" x 13'4" small, that is. I certainly didn't, considering that it was bigger than my current master bedroom by a substantial amount.

Time to check out the other side of the hall. Two bedrooms remained: each had a good-sized walk-in closet, and they shared a more-than-generous bathroom. Plenty of windows. One bedroom was 14'4" x 13'4"; the other was 12'x14'4". One was furnished with twin beds; the other with a full-sized bed. The furnishings were simple and elegant.

I decided to test the elevator, to see if it was actually working or if it had been locked down. To my delight, the elevator was indeed in service; I pressed the button and rode downstairs in a kind of daze. But I didn't get off at the 1st floor. Nope, not me. I rode down to the basement. In my own personal elevator. Which opened to a huge (and I mean _huge_) unfurnished basement which had hardwood floors, and--get this--its own full bath! Naturally. I mean, if you gotta go, you gotta go. And you sure wouldn't want to take the elevator to the next floor up to do your business, now would you? I thought not.

Wandering around, I found a sliding glass door and three windows at the back of the basement. The door led to a walk-out concrete patio, covered by the 12'x12' deck immediately overhead. That was it. I was done with the tour. Hell, I don't think my poor system could have taken any more, anyway. I think the personal elevator had pushed me into truly Bizarro-World. I took the stairs to the 1st floor, not trusting that I hadn't dreamed the whole thing. But I knew I hadn't. This was real, all right. And I wanted it. Badly.

Once again in the foyer, I stood debating with myself for the longest time, carefully running numbers in my head as I consulted the pricing schedule on the last page of the brochure. At least I hadn't picked the priciest of the models to fall in love with! And the hand-out tucked into the front pocket of the brochure did promise 'special incentive pricing on selected models'. The Coronado just happened to be among the 4 models listed. That had to be some kind of a sign, I decided. _Well_, Wonder Woman asked. _What do you think? Are we going to do this or not? _I bit my lip, and took another slow look around. By this time, Sensible Stephanie had given up in disgust. Poor girl knew when she was licked!

Going with my gut, I decided that if I'd learned anything from Life, it was that Fortune favored the Brave. After all, if I hadn't taken a chance that Friday evening not so long ago, and gone upstairs with a handsome stranger, I'd never have spent the most romantic and sexually incendiary weekend of my life. I'd never have fallen in love with Carlos, or become engaged to the man that I now loved more than I'd ever imagined it was possible to love anyone. If I'd hadn't decided to level with Dawson that following Monday about why I wasn't interested in placing a order for his lingerie, and then impulsively sketched out a few designs for him, he would never have offered me a job with his company. A job that, in a few short days, had turned into a financially lucrative career. One that now made it possible for me to afford this lovely townhouse--if I wanted it enough to take the leap into home ownership, that is.

I could see myself living here for a long time, I decided. Not only for the 18 months that it would take for Carlos to return from his mission, but for many years to follow. This could be my home with Carlos and our children, at least while we were getting started raising a family. _That's why you need 4 spacious bedrooms_, Wonder Woman whispered to me. A boy and a girl, each with their father's mocha latte colored skin and warm chocolate brown eyes. And, please God, not my crazy mop of out-of-control hair! We could be happy here, I knew. And when we finally decided to make the move to single-family ownership, we could pick out the house together. But for now, this would do just perfectly!

Before I could chicken out, I pulled out my cell phone and called Mateo. I caught him just as he was getting ready to leave for the day. When I told him where I was and what I was planning on doing, he convinced me to wait until he could get here so that he could help me negotiate the best deal possible. Poor guy, I was certainly making his life exciting these days!

On impulse, I dialed Dawson's cell phone, and he picked up on the second ring. By the time I'd filled him in on my plans, he'd already grabbed his coat and was asking for directions. I breathed a sigh of relief: I was going to have two experienced and trust-worthy pairs of eyes looking over my shoulder. I felt a wave of relief shoot through me. Sensible Stephanie was relaxing now. So was Wonder Woman. That must be what it felt like to have calm balanced energy…

I was just walking down the path to the sidewalk when a salesman and a middle-aged couple passed by the townhouse. I gave them a polite smile, which froze on my face when I overheard a snippet of their conversation.

"Unfortunately, this Coronado model's already been sold. We do have the Delano model available, if you're interested. It's on the other end of the row; and it's really quite lovely."

"But I really like the Coronado," the woman whined, unhappily.

"Well, there are two Coronados currently being framed--but they won't be ready until April, 2009, I'm afraid. Those are the last two of this particular model that we're building. We're going to be focusing on the Alameda, the Belvedere, the Delano and the Encino models going forward---"

They moved away, and I felt all of the happiness being sucked out of the air. I'd gotten all excited for nothing! I wasn't going to be able to get this townhouse, after all. Not unless I wanted to wait six more months for the construction to be completed, that is. Which meant that I'd be out on the street once my apartment building went condo in two months time. Damn! Damn! Damn! Now what? Turning right, I headed toward the Sales Office, figuring that I might as well button-hole one of the salesmen and find out if there was any chance at all that one of those two Coronados could be ready before April 2009. I knew it was a wasted exercise; but truth be told, I just couldn't bear to give up my happy little dream so easily.

I thought about calling Mateo and Dawson back and telling them not to bother coming; but again, I just didn't want to admit that things weren't going to work out the way I wanted them to. And anyway, I'd still value their advice on the townhouse: perhaps they would have a suggestion on how to handle things if I had to wait out those six months. Maybe I could find a short-term lease on an apartment?

Stepping into the Sales Office, I gave a polite smile to the young woman behind the reception desk. She didn't smile back. Instead, she was leaning back in her chair, clearly trying to overhear what was going on in the office behind her. I could see a ruddy-faced salesman, looking anything but happy, pacing around the room, cell phone glued to his ear.

"Excuse me?" I said, trying to claim her attention.

I needn't have bothered: she was definitely not interested in my conversation. Her attention was riveted to the man in the inner office, and she was shaking her head and muttering darkly under her breath.

"I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!" she scowled. "Did I not _tell _him? Of course I did. Did he listen? _Nope. _Now what the hell is he going to do?"

"Excuse me," I tried more forcefully, "Can I get someone to help me, please?"

She looked over, startled, and I watched as what I liked to think of as 'the expression' formed on her face. I knew that look all too well. Hell, I'd seen it often enough in the past few days.

"Yes, I'm 'the cake lady'," I sighed, "No, I'm not going to do my little 'I quit' dance for you. It's been a long day, and really I'm not in the mood to put on a show."

"Sorry! You must get that a lot," she gave me an understanding smile, and I found myself smiling back. "I have to say, though: you're my hero! I can't count the number of times I've watched that video of yours! I'd give anything to have the guts to tell my boss to take his job and shove it where the sun don't shine."

"That your boss inside? He doesn't look too happy."

"Nah! He's not my boss; he's just one of the sales consultants here," she confided, "But no, Eric's not happy. Far from it. One of our buyers just called and dropped a bombshell on him. The guy's going through a nasty divorce, and he and his wife are both going for the jugular. She wants the house, and he won't let her have it. He'd rather lose it completely than let her live in it without him."

"Wow. No wonder he looks so miserable. That must be a hell of a commission to lose."

"Not only that, but the place has a ton of special pre-selects on it. Some pretty pricey ones, actually. It's not very likely to sell easily, given there are other models that are less expensive or that have fewer bells and whistles."

"Too bad."

"Yeah, it's a real bitch. Excuse my French. It's just that I saw this one coming a mile away, and I tried to give him the heads-up. He just didn't want to listen. But, hey, those two argued most of the time they were in here. It was just a matter of time before it ended up in divorce court, if you know what I mean."

"Having been divorced, I know exactly what you mean."

"What can I do for you? I'm Alison."

"I'm Stephanie Plum. I'm hoping to talk to a sales consultant about one of the townhouses."

"Clark's out with some other customers, but if you don't mind waiting a few minutes, Eric will be off the phone. He'd be _more_ than willing to help, particularly if you actually are interested in buying one. Like I said: he could use the commission."

"I'm more than interested in buying," I confessed. "I've already done the walk-throughs of all the models. And I've found one I absolutely _love_. But from what I understand, it's not available. Or at least it's not going to be available for six months or so."

Alison did a double-take, and her eyes widened. "April? Oh, this is _beyond_ freaky! You wouldn't happen to be talking about the---"

"Coronado--"

"--Coronado, would you?"

We both paused, and I waited to see what she had to say.

"The model you love? It's the Coronado?"

"Yeah, it is. But when I was coming out, heading over here, I heard the sales consultant--Clark, I guess it must have been?--telling a couple that the model was sold. And that there were only two Coronados left, both of them under construction and not available until April."

"That's all true. Except that the Coronado is the model that Mr. Wardell and his bitch of a wife Estelle are fighting over! And, like I said, Eric just got a call from him that he was backing out of the deal and walking away from it."

"Are you kidding me?" I was about ready to do the happy dance for her, after all! "It's _available_? The model on the end? The Coronado? Are you sure? What am I saying! You work here: of course you're sure!"

"You want the model as is? All the bells and whistles? Elevator? Full bath in the basement? Upgrades up the wazoo? Everything exactly as is?"

"Yeah! Hell, I'd move in today if I could. It's absolutely perfect! I love the colors, I love the floor and the cabinet and the carpet colors. I love the style it's decorated in. I even love the way it's staged!"

"That's because Diana Scarlotti, the designer we work with, is fabulous at her job. She did all the models, she's got a real gift for design."

"She sure does! Too bad you don't sell it furnished."

Alison gave me a slow smile, and leaned over conspiratorially, "You want it exactly as is? Then let me tell you precisely what you say and precisely what you do…"

And she did. In explicit detail.

By the time that Eric Marshall emerged from his office, Alison Forrester and I were the best of friends. I'd happily signed an autograph for her, one for her mother Hazel, and two more for her cousin Shirley and her best friend Gina. And I'd given her a handwritten I.O.U. to be collected on when the first of my new lingerie designs rolled off the assembly line in another week. It was the least I could do for someone who had just handed me the virtual key to my dream townhouse!

For the first time, I was actually thanking my lucky stars that someone had thought to record my little performance and upload it onto _You Tube_. There was no way in hell that I'd have gotten that kind of enthusiastic advice from a stranger unless I was the infamous 'lingerie babe rapping her notice on desk'.

"Can I help you? I'm Eric Marshall," he offered me his hand.

As we shook hands, I gave him my most blinding smile. "I'm Stephanie Plum. Actually, _I'm_ the one who can help _you_. If you're willing to make me the deal of a lifetime, that is."

His face creased into a puzzled frown, "I'm not sure I understand?"

"You need to sell that Coronado model on the end. The one with all the expensive add-ons. I'm willing to take it _as is--_and I can give you a deposit within the hour. I can guarantee the financing will go through, too. Provided you make it worth my while to make the deal."

I saw his eyes widen in delight, and I was ushered into his office with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for conquering heroes. I saw Alison give me a surreptitious wink, and I mouthed 'thank you' as Eric and I sat down to talk turkey, as it were.

_You don't ask, you don't get_, is my Grandma Mazur's favorite line. Grandma Mazur always asks--not always politely. Hell, sometimes she tries to get _without_ asking. But that's how she ended up a registered NJ Sex Offender, so I didn't think that was the kind of example I needed to follow. But asking for the townhouse already decorated: that was easy as pie. Especially since Alison had so carefully wised me up to the situation.

"There would be an extra cost for the furniture, of course," Eric steepled his hands and gave me his most charming smile. "But it is do-able, certainly."

"Considering that furniture's served its purpose for the last few months or more, I don't think an extra cost is really justified." I folded my arms and sat back in the chair, smiling back just as charmingly. "Remember, I'm already going to be paying for a ton of add-ons that were pre-selected, and now can't be removed. It's not very likely that a lot of other buyers are going to be in the market for all of them, either. So my checkbook and I might be your best hope to get it off your inventory. Throwing in the furniture as a little incentive for me to make a deal is in your best interest."

"That's like $100,000 of furniture, give or take. That's a hell of a lot more than a _little_ incentive, don't you think?"

"Not really. You've had that particular townhouse open to the public since you began selling the Coronado model last March. So in essence, I'd be paying for used furniture. Albeit tasteful furniture. But still…_used furniture_. Say I didn't want it. You'd need to hire a moving van to come and pack it up and ship it to a consignment store. Because you're not opening any other model houses in this development."

"True," he agreed, "It's the kind of headache I really would prefer to avoid."

"So, _avoid it_," I invited, "Give me the house as is, and you won't have to do a damned thing to clear it out. It's a win-win situation for both of us."

"I'm still not convinced: I have two Coronados in the works for an April 2009 occupancy. No one's bought them yet. I can always keep this model open and use it to promote the other townhouses."

"You could," I said quietly, "But then you'd miss out on collecting a sizeable commission on this sale. A sale you could make _today_, and not wait for April 2009. You don't look like the sort of person who does stupid things just to keep from saving a few bucks on used furniture. But maybe I'm wrong?"

There was a small smile, and the hint of more. "I try not to do stupid things for _any_ reason. But since there already happen to be special pricing incentives on the Coronado model, I'd be making you a _very _lucrative deal."

"And I could make it worth your while to do it. How would you like to make commissions on all three Coronado townhouses? The model, which you could sell to me today. _And _your two unsold still under-construction Coronados. Which would sell so fast your head would turn once it got out that 'the cake lady' was buying a Bel Aire townhouse from you."

"I thought I recognized you," he admitted.

"I've just been made a partner in Dawson Books Designs," I studied my pinkie nail carefully. "We're going to be doing a lot of press in the coming weeks. A _lot_ of press. Now if I were to casually mention to a few oh-so-interested-reporters that I was moving in to one of your lovely townhomes…"

"You'd do that?"

"Why not? I wouldn't be lying. If I actually _were_ moving in, that is. Which I _would_ be, if I were to get a really exceptional deal with these 'special pricing incentives'. As well as all of that used furniture thrown in as yet another 'special pricing incentive'."

"You'd mention my name specifically?"

"If I were happy with the deal you offered me, sure. I'd even be willing to hand out a few of your business cards, should anyone happen to ask me who my super-professional oh-so-helpful sales consultant was. As I said: a win-win situation for both of us."

"It certainly sounds that way to me. You're certain the financing will go through? In order to get the incentives, you need to finance with our company. That much is non-negotiable."

"I've got my partner Dawson Books coming down here to vouch for me personally. I've got my attorney on his way to do the same. And I've got the required deposit sitting in my Chase bank account, all ready and waiting for me to write out a check and hand it over to you when I sign on the dotted line." Of course, as I said, that meant that my POS car and I were going to be seeing a lot more of each other for awhile…but hey, a girl can't have everything, can she?

"Then I'd say that you have yourself a beautifully furnished model townhouse."

Well, well. Grandma Mazur was right, after all: I asked…and I got. _Boy, did I ever! _Dawson and Mateo arrived about 15 minutes apart. I greeted them with the news that I'd found the perfect place to live. And by the time we'd taken another walk-through of the townhouse--and Eric had driven us around the development to show me the area and take me on a tour of the 2 story Private Clubhouse, which featured an exercise room, a billiards room, a library, a card/media room, men and women's locker rooms, upper and lower level kitchens, as well as tennis courts and a swimming pool--both Dawson and Mateo were beaming happily in agreement with my assessment that this was indeed the perfect place for me to live.

Some time later I emerged from the Sales Office the proud owner of my very own luxury townhouse, with escrow due to close in 30 days. And all because I'd had the sudden urge to take that left turn and find a new way of doing things. Fortune indeed favored the Brave! And this Wonder Woman was learning that I was braver than I'd ever imagined myself. I could almost hear Carlos' encouraging voice whispering in my ear, "Proud of you, Babe."

_So was I! _

Score another triumph for Wonder Woman!


	63. Chapter 63

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. Hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 63

The next weekend seemed to just fly by. I don't think my feet hit the ground once!

On Saturday morning, I broke the surprising news of my townhouse purchase to Mary Lou and Tina when we'd met in my apartment for coffee and donuts and what was supposed to be the start of yet another round of apartment hunting. Neither one of them could believe their ears when I told them of my impulsive decision the previous afternoon--I think they were both convinced I was joking, at first. Then I showed them the brochure, and invited them to take a ride with me. They were even willing to brave the trip in my POS car, which only goes to show how downright stunned they both were by the unexpected turn of events.

Their uncharacteristic silence didn't last very long, though: I don't think they stopped bombarding me with questions the whole way. I recounted the previous day's events in excruciating detail, to loud cries of "omigod, Steph, you _didn't_!' and 'girl, you got balls!' and 'then what did you say?' By the time I'd finished my story, both friends agreed that I'd been akin to a real estate genius to maneuver Eric into including all of the model's furnishings in to sweeten a deal that I'd been praying for in the first place!

By the time we parked in the lot of the Bel Aire Estates Sales Office, they were so excited that they damned near dragged me out of the car demanding to know which townhouse was mine. I pointed to it proudly, and they sprinted over to inspect it while I ducked into the Sales Office to get the keys from Eric.

I'd had a brainstorm in the wee small hours of the morning--not surprisingly, I hadn't been able to sleep worth crap--and I wanted to test the waters, as it were. Ever-mindful of my promise to give him publicity so that he could sell additional town homes, I asked Eric if he would be open to allowing Dawson and me to hold our upcoming launch party for the new Books/Plum Designs in the Bel Aire Estate's Private Club House, with its huge multi-purpose room, adjoining kitchen, and several other rooms that could serve as dressing rooms for the models and a display area for the lingerie. He brightened up immediately, and I could see he was well on his way to that happy place where business people go to in their minds when they picture themselves making a tremendous amount of money for very little effort. I had a _yes_ from him so fast that I hadn't even completed my suggestion!

Since we didn't have a definite date set yet--just a general estimate of the first week of November--I promised to call him as soon as possible to finalize things on his end. He offered us the entire Club House as well as access to any of the dozen model townhouses that we might care to use. I had a few thoughts on how to make perfect use of those townhouses for _another _project related to the launch, but said nothing to Eric until I could run my sudden brainstorm by Dawson. And I'd had more than one brainstorm!

Who better to hire to cater our launch party than _Rosa's_? I knew their food was beyond superb, and I was certain that Papa and Alejandro would be more than willing to do the job. It would give them a ton of publicity, as well. A true win-win situation!

And while Papa was at the Bel Aire Estates, I could always take him over to see my townhouse's gorgeous new kitchen, and see if I could convince him to give me a few cooking pointers while I had the chance. That's me: always trying to work an angle! But as Grandma Mazur always said--and I'd just proven true with Eric--if you don't ask, you don't get. I always planned to ask, from now on.

After we'd finished our business discussion, Eric happily handed over the keys to my Coronado--God, I loved saying that: '_my Coronado'_--and I hustled over to where Mary Lou and Tina were impatiently awaiting the start of the grand tour. And a grand tour it was, trust me! I did the whole dog-and-pony-show thing for them, complete with a ride in my own private elevator. They were majorly impressed, and said so loud and often.

By the time we'd carefully covered every square inch of the premises--with me snapping dozens of digital photos, so I could gaze at them later and make plans--both of my friends were so pumped that they were already planning my house-warming party! There was more than enough room to host a huge crowd for an open house, and I couldn't wait to get everyone together to celebrate my good fortune.

The closing looked to be set for mid-November; I was ecstatic to realize that I'd be completely moved in by Thanksgiving--especially given that I wasn't taking any of my furnishings with me. Just my clothes and personal mementos and not a whole lot else.

What all I was going to do with my current furniture I really hadn't decided: it wasn't all in very good shape, after all. But it was free, so probably someone I knew would want it. That was the thing about the Burg: whether or not people needed something, they'd be more than happy to get it at no cost.

"What did your Mom say when you told her you bought a town home?" Mary Lou asked, as we climbed back into my car and headed off for lunch.

"I didn't tell her--not yet anyway," I admitted, rolling my eyes, "I'm definitely not in the mood for the lecture I'd get: '_Stephanie! Are you insane? How could you do something so rash as buy a house--and on your way home from work, yet? And it's not even in the Burg so I can't check up on how you're living your life and nag you 1001 times a day about everything you do. Why me? Mona Simenski's daughter Simone wouldn't lose her mind and buy an expensive house without letting her mother check it out and talk her out of it. And what will Joseph Morelli think? And what about the dog that he's going to get so he can walk in the park and be domesticated so you can marry him? What will Joseph's dog think? What will the neighbors think? What will the neighbor's sister's friend's aunt's hairdresser's babysitter think? How can you possibly have imagined this was a good idea?'_…."

Tina howled with laughter, "You've got her whine down pat, Stevie! It's scary!"

"Yeah, well, I ought to, by now: I've heard it enough! Seriously, I'm not going to break the news to her until I'm about to sign the papers and I'm ready to move out of my apartment and into my new home. I've got too many other important things to do, what with the new business and planning the wedding and the move--I sure as hell don't need the aggravation of arguing with her on top of it."

"I won't say a word to anyone about it," Mary Lou promised, "But you're right: she's going to hit the roof on this one, Steph."

"Tough nuggies," I grinned, turning into the _Chili's_ parking lot. "I'm done living my life according to other people's rules. I'm Wonder Woman, remember?"

"Speaking of: did you get your costume reserved?" Tina reminded me. "Halloween is less than two weeks away."

"Crappity crap crap! I knew I forgot something!" I shook my head in disgust, "I'm going to do that right now: otherwise the rental place will have only lame old costumes that no one else wants!" I pulled out my phone and made a quick call to reserve my Halloween costume, since there was no way in hell this Wonder Woman wanted to show up at our annual Halloween party dressed like Harvey the Rabbit or a generic Witch or Ghost. Those were the only choices I'd had last year, when I'd spent my favorite holiday in complete mortification dressed as a giant pink rabbit!

"I'm going to be Jeannie--you know, from 'I Dream of Jeannie'?" Mary Lou confided, "It's very daring for me. Lenny'll have a cow when he sees me go out in public dressed like that. But I'm hoping it gets his motor running at home, if you know what I mean."

"Still too tired, huh?" Tina commiserated.

"Yep," she said sadly, "Unfortunately. I'm living vicariously through Steph these days."

"Join the club. I've been living vicariously through her ever since I spotted that hunky man of hers in the hotel corridor, and realized the loud screams of ecstasy were coming from her. Then I read some of those fantasies she lived, and she became my Idol."

"Well, your Idol now has a Wonder Woman costume on reserve, thanks to your reminder," I said, ending the call happily. "What are you going to go as?"

Tina grinned wickedly, "I'm going to be a cowgirl. A very naughty cowgirl."

"I don't get the visual," I said, trying to picture Tina of all people as a cowgirl. The naughty part I got, the cowgirl I couldn't in a million years see her as. "What does it look like?"

She chuckled, "There are no words: you have to see it to believe it. But trust me, any man who sees it is going to be offering me _treats_, not tricks. _Lots _of treats."

"What would your Lester say about that?" I teased.

"My Lester ain't here," she shot back, a devilish gleam in her eye as we walked into the restaurant. "Until he _is_, he's shit out of luck. I'm hoping to get some action for my poor neglected little sopa--and I'm more than willing to bet this costume will get the job done right."

"You realize that now that you've told me this costume is so hot, I'm going to be dying to see it," I gave her the Burg glare. "I need the 411, girl."

"Think leopard skin bikini," she smirked, "Then add leopard skin chaps. And clear platform heels--"

"No cowboy boots?" I laughed.

"No, but I've got a 10 gallon hat. Black. I'm definitely playing the bad girl." She winked, as we were shown to our table and handed the menus.

"OMIGOD!" Mary Lou blurted suddenly.

"What?" Both Tina and I whipped our heads around to face her.

"You bought a townhouse, Steph! An honest to God gorgeous top-of-the-line luxury townhouse!"

"I did," I nodded proudly. "I rock!"

"Girl, you're beyond rocking," Tina assured me, "After the whole _You Tube _thing, you pretty much hit Legend."

"Did I tell you I'm just about at 760,000 hits as of this morning?"

"I can believe it. _Everyone's_ talking about it." Mary Lou indicated a couple across the room who were clearly watching our table with great interest. "I'm betting you're going to get another autograph request, as soon as they work up the nerve to approach you."

"Speaking of approaching me--remember that Spanish-speaking woman who came up to our table on my birthday? The one who wished me Happy Birthday, then disappeared?"

"I remember. What about her?" Tina asked. "Is she here too?"

"No, I don't see her. But remember when I told you about Carlos and me going at it in the front seat of his Porsche in _Rosa's_ parking lot?"

"Girl, I only think about that a dozen times a day or so," Tina teased, "I'm definitely adding that to my top 12 Wicked Fantasies list. For me and Lester, I mean."

"You only get 6. He gets the other 6," I reminded her, "Anyway, remember I told you that Carlos saw this elderly woman just as we were going for our grand finish? And that he got really upset because the woman had known him since he was a baby? _That was her! _The woman in the restaurant!"

"Get out of town!" Tina's jaw dropped. "Are you kidding me?"

"Steph!!!" Mary Lou started choking on her water. "Omigod! You're _sure_?"

"Carlos said she was Papa's mother, Rosa. The one the restaurant is named after. And when I asked the waiter who my birthday greeter was--it was one and the same. _The_ Rosa."

"So I guess she's not too mad at you for using her parking lot as a make-out pit," Tina giggled, "_Good! _I'd hate to get banned from the restaurant because my friend is a notorious hussy. The food's too damned delicious!"

"To say nothing about how embarrassing it would be to have to explain to Papa why we can't have the reception there, after all. I'm going with the assumption that she didn't tell anyone what she saw," I decided, "Less embarrassing that way. I don't want to even think about Papa or Alejandro--or Mateo, for that matter--knowing anything at all about that little escapade."

"I hear ya, Stevie! So? What's on tap for the rest of the afternoon? We were planning on spending it apartment hunting--"

"We could switch gears and start more bridal gown shopping?" Mary Lou suggested.

"That's a good idea, Lou. I called Melinda and asked her to find out from her Uncle John if Delta Force has dress uniforms. I'm hoping they do, because I'd _love_ to see Carlos in uniform."

"And out of it," Tina teased.

"That goes without saying! But I'm really loving the whole military wedding thing, and if he doesn't have a uniform, that's going to be a major bummer."

"I know, Stevie," Tina commiserated, "If I were you, and he told me no uniform, I'd just say 'forget it, tall dark and utterly gorgeous: the wedding's off'."

"Smart ass! You know what I mean: I just love the idea of walking under an arch of crossed swords, with all those men in uniforms--and Carlos all mine to unwrap slowly, like a very special birthday present that just keeps on giving…." I was actually starting to drool by now. I was one lovesick little puppy, for sure.

"You'll see Melinda tomorrow, maybe she'll have some news for you. I don't even know what color the uniforms would be. But I'm sure Carlos will have one." Mary Lou gave me a reassuring pat on my hand, "And he'll be more than happy to wear it at your wedding--the man lives to make you happy."

That of course launched me into the news of my new 18 month dessert plan, courtesy of the man who knew me better than anyone ever had. And by the time our food came, we were all of the opinion that keeping me supplied with desserts had been a true stroke of genius on Carlos' part. After all, now I could avoid the Plum dinner table--and my mother's never-ending lectures and critiques--and concentrate instead on building my life just the way I wanted it. Which is exactly what I planned to do!

I got out of the restaurant an hour later having signed no less than 7 autographs, and we headed back to my apartment so that we could take Tina's car for the rest of the afternoon's shopping expedition. My POS car was back to making some very unpleasant noises, and none of us wanted the hassle of a road emergency and a call to AAA.

Things were falling into place in other areas of my life, but the wedding dress situation was still a colossal failure. Or maybe I was just too damned picky when it came to what I wanted to wear. I tried on no less than a dozen gowns, and couldn't get excited over any of them. I described the dress I'd pictured in my mind to salon owner after salon owner, but no one had anything like it in stock. And I hadn't found it in any of my bridal magazine or internet searches, either. I was beginning to think it didn't exist. So that left me with three possible courses of action: give up and find another dress; keep looking and hope that I got lucky; or--the most risky of all--do some sketching of my own and see if I was as talented at designing a bridal gown as I was at designing lingerie. Hmmmmmmm. I wonder?

By the time we'd totally exhausted ourselves and decided to break for the day, I was giving very serious thought to giving the latter idea a try. After all, if I didn't like my design, I could just rip it up, with no one any the wiser. Then I could go back to looking again. But if it worked…I'd have the gown of my dreams! And I'd have plenty of time to find someone to get it made for me. The idea had more appeal every time I thought about it.

As I was grabbing my sketch pad and settling down to try to get my idea on paper, my cell phone rang. I checked the number, and was relieved to discover it was Dawson returning my earlier call.

We exchanged greetings; I thanked him again for coming to my assistance yesterday and helping me to get the financials straightened out so the townhouse deal could go through so quickly. As always, Dawson brushed off my thanks, saying it was his pleasure. He really was a very kind and thoughtful man; I was proud and happy to be his partner. Which brought me to the point of the conversation.

I filled him in on my brainstorm to hold the launch party at the Bel Aire Estates Private Club House, and have it catered by _Rosa's. _He was absolutely delighted at the suggestion. I told him that Eric had offered us the use of the model townhouses, as well. And I gave him my suggestion on how to use them more effectively.

"We can discuss it more on Monday, when we have our big Marketing Department meeting," I prefaced, "But here's the thing: we want to get our catalog printed and out to customers as soon as possible, so we get the early Christmas shoppers' business. And we'll need photos of the line to put on the new website that Amanda is going to be working on. So I'm thinking we can save both time and money by hiring models from the agency we're familiar with, from our EE Martin days. Not the same girls, mind you: a different mix. More ethnic variety."

"Sounds smart to me," Dawson agreed, "Younger than my current target market. Especially since we aren't selling 'granny panties' anymore. Your designs are stunning, by the way. I've just gotten them finished. The prototypes are ready for your approval tomorrow afternoon. Then I can rush them into production, and we'll have product to show."

"And that's what I want to do with the model townhouses," I said, excitedly, "We need a location shoot for the models. Instead of hiring a place and going through all the hassle of researching where and maybe getting it wrong, we use the model townhouses as our location! I've seen the bedrooms of all the models--that's 4 times 12--48 different bedrooms! And all beautifully decorated. You saw the Coronado for yourself."

"It was quite lovely," he agreed, "And this Eric fellow, he gave you the OK?"

"He wants the publicity for his company. He couldn't be happier to let us use them for the launch party or for this--if you give the OK--because he knows it will get word of mouth for him. Particularly when we give credit on the back cover to Eric and Bel Aire Estates, and provide the contact information for anyone looking to buy a luxury townhouse."

"That's perfect, Stephanie! If you can firm up the deal with him as soon as possible, I can have the lingerie ready for the models to wear by the end of this week. Figure on us doing the shoot sometime in the last week of October. Early in the week, rather than late. I have a photographer all lined up: he's actually the reason I wanted to speak to you tonight. We'll need some professional photos of you for the press. I'm hoping we can get you in for your shoot in the next day or so---"

"Me? You want me to be a model?" I was horrified.

"No, no, not a lingerie model," he assured me, "I mean some professional shots of you that we can put in the marketing package we give to the press to announce the new line. And our new partnership: Books/Plum Designs. I have a current head-shot of me. Not that anyone will care about me in the least: I'm not the big news, after all. It's _you_ they want! You'll need to get your face out there in the press---"

"On something other than _You Tube_," I sighed. "Got it."

"How soon can you find time?"

"I'm going to be really busy Monday--as are you. What with everyone starting, and getting the new departments set up and everything."

"What about tomorrow afternoon?"

"_Sunday_?"

"Got anything planned?"

"No. Just hanging around the apartment sketching. Or whatever. Can he fit me in on a Sunday afternoon?"

"Stephanie, we're paying him. He fits us in on _our_ schedule, not on _his_. How about 2pm? I can give him a call and make the appointment."

"It works for me. Give me the address and the guy's name and I'll be there," I grabbed the pencil and jotted down the information.

"Bring a few changes of clothes; he'll take a variety of different poses." Dawson told me a little about Tyler--that was the photographer's name--and I was already mentally planning my wardrobe by the time Dawson dropped his next bombshell.

"_A new logo? _We have a new logo for the company?"

"We will shortly. We need to think of suggestions. My current one is sorely lacking in imagination: just my name in perfectly sensible script. I've hired someone to create it according to our specifications. I wanted to know if you had any suggestions? You have a special talent for design and an imagination that I so envy."

"Well, I don't know," I hedged, "I've never thought about a logo before. What about we use the initials B and P, then the word Designs?"

"In gold," he suggested, "Perhaps against a plum background?"

"That would be great: Plum--I get it! So what do we do about Books?"

"What do you mean?"

"We need something catchy. So people look at the logo--after all, it will be the hangtag on every one of our garments--and think of Books/Plum Designs every time they see that image."

"I'm open to suggestions, as I said."

I had it! "_A book! _We use a book, on an angle, so you can see the gold-trimmed pages. And the cover of the book is plum, with gold letters B P and the word Designs underneath it."

"I like it! I'll get it made up and we can see how it looks. Then our hangtags will be trimmed and shaped as a book, and we stand out yet again!"

"What do you think about holding the launch party the first Saturday in November? And having _Rosa's_ cater it, as I suggested. Provided they're available?"

"I think it's a brilliant idea," Dawson congratulated me, "Do you want to contact them or should I?"

"I'll do it," I volunteered, "And I'll plan the party--with Tina's help--if that's OK with you?"

"That's fine with me. I'd rather leave it up to you. I'm so excited about this, I can't tell you! I'm so looking forward to Monday, and our new staff. I've got people working now configuring the floor so that the ladies will each have their own office."

"Well, be prepared: they're going to come in ready to hit the ground running. They've had a few days to start planning, and I'm betting that their presentations will knock your socks off! They're very talented and very enthusiastic!"

"That's what our company needs. I'm beginning to think we're going to take the industry by storm!"

"_Beginning_ to think? Dawson, I've had no doubt of that since the beginning!"

And I hadn't.

After we ended the call, I made a number of calls in rapid succession. One to Eric, who green-lighted our photo shoot at Bel Aire Estates so fast that it made my head spin, and then officially scheduled our launch party at the Club House for November 1--the first Saturday in the month. My next call was to Papa, who verbally committed to cater the launch party and then gave me the contact information for _Rosa's _event planner, Guillermo Vargas. Then I fired off calls to Tina, and to our core Marketing Team of Melinda, Miranda, Amanda, Joy and Kelly, giving them the news and finding out that they'd been working non-stop since Dawson had extended the job offer. We were going to have one hell of a productive day on Monday, for sure!

On Sunday, I found myself doing the "lights, camera, action" thing. I'd brought a ton of clothes with me to Tyler Craig's studio in Montclair, and I was thrilled that my hair had cooperated beautifully as he snapped off shot after shot as I promised myself I'd never think of models as overpaid again. It was tough work trying to project all of the emotions Tyler called for, in order to produce a variety of shots. Why we needed a shot of me in my little black dress hugging the white carpet, I had no clue. But he was the professional photographer, not me. I supposed we could use it for something…

It took the better part of the afternoon to complete the shoot, and by the time I climbed into my Nova and motored home, I'd collected no less than 38 messages on my cell phone. Thankfully, most of them were from people I actually wanted to speak with; not my mother. But she'd called half a dozen times, so I guess it could have been worse: if she'd heard anything at all that even hinted at my townhouse purchase, she'd have made it 138 calls…..

I tossed my bag on the sofa and kicked off my shoes. Time for another wedge of pineapple upside down cake! As I listened to the calls, I realized for the first time what I'd gotten myself into: these were my friends, but they were also my employees! Or they would be, come tomorrow. I needed to bust my butt to make sure they weren't sorry they came on board with me. And I would.

Looking over at the picture of Carlos smiling back at me, I allowed my thoughts to drift back to the all-too-brief weekend I'd spent in his arms. He'd teased me that he intended to ruin me for all other men; I'd thought at the time that he was the one man who could do that. And he had. Totally. Not just physically, either. He'd given me more Doomsday Orgasms than I could count, but that wasn't what I remembered now.

"You gave me wings, Carlos," I said, softly, "You gave me the courage to believe in myself. The confidence that I can create a life that I've always wanted, and live according to _my_ rules and not those of the Burg busybodies. You gave me all of yourself--and you made me better because you love me. I miss you so much! But I know that you're Superman, and you're going to come home to me--and you're going to be so proud of what I've done while you're gone. Then I'm going to drag your fine Cuban ass to bed and I'm going to make up for every single minute we've missed while you've been gone. So you better be ready for me."

I kissed his picture softly, and placed it back on the table. "Kick ass, Superman!"

I knew he would.

I planned to do the same.


	64. Chapter 64

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. Hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 64

Monday arrived, with a non-stop whirl of meeting upon meeting. Dawson and I met with our new staff of eight to officially welcome them on board and give them a group tour of the building. Then we met with each woman individually.

It became obvious very quickly that when I'd warned Dawson that my friends were going to hit the ground running, I was severely _understating _their enthusiasm! Each woman had come prepared with a detailed plan of action in her area of expertise, backed up by a dizzying amount of facts she'd researched, and a report so thorough and specific that it left her earlier contribution in the dust. Dawson and I were euphoric; we devoted the day to listening to each woman's presentation, our excitement ever-growing as we realized we were moving more rapidly towards the launch than we could ever have anticipated.

Tech savvy Amanda McCord led off with her illustrated mock-up of what our website should look like, taking us screen by screen through all the layers of the site and explaining why she'd chosen that particular order. She had a list of graphics and other information she still needed to get from us to move forward: our company logo; photos of the lingerie; specifics on material, measurements and pricing; headshots of us, with a bio; a toll-free telephone number; and the like. She'd already interviewed three different web designers over coffee in the last few days; and she had their resumes, salary requirements--and a recommendation of which guy we should choose for the job. She'd also gotten the information we needed to buy the domain name BooksPlumDesigns. We green-lighted her choices, and promised to provide her all of the information without delay.

Our graphics wizard, Kelly Olson, was next up at bat. She'd been responsible for producing EE Martin's catalogs for the past 6 or so years. Kelly had, with go-to-girl Ruby Alston's capable assistance, done a careful analysis of what the competition's catalogs looked like--and how we could make ours stand out from the crowd. Working with Melinda's demographics, Kelly had developed her mock-up catalog to appeal to a specific woman: our target Books/Plum Designs customer. She'd used print photos from other catalogs and the web to lay out what our new catalog should look like; she'd added color and catchy graphics, and selected models of differing ethnic backgrounds and ages. The result was more than impressive! Ruby had specific numbers on the cost to print the catalog, and the turn-around time required. She'd already contacted no less than six printers, and their proposals were there in black and white--along with Kelly and Ruby's choice of vendor. Also included in their presentation were the names of the mailing list providers, with specific lists we needed to buy in order to get our catalog into the right customer's hands. Again, Dawson and I gave the green-light, and sat back for our next presenter.

Joy Robinson, with her background in TV advertising, stepped up to the plate. She had the numbers we needed to see in order to go forward with that part of the marketing plan--as well as some very clever commercial pitches. Joy had focused on the new _Babe_ lingerie line, which would put our company on the industry map. She envisioned a number of different women, each targeted to our core customer, speaking to the camera. "Are you a _Babe_?" they'd ask, as our company logo and product designs flashed on the screen. "Totally confident. Totally sexy. Totally sensual. Totally elegant. Totally today. Totally you. _Babe!_"Each model would target one specific demographic, and her tag-line would correspond to her look. "Totally sophisticated." "Totally sporty." "Totally sassy." "Totally spicy." "Totally flirty." And we'd have, in essence, a visual catalog that would be inclusive of all ethnic and age groups.

Miranda Montgomery, with her expertise in print ads, had worked closely with Joy in creating the marketing concept. Miranda's mock-ups came next: she'd prepared a Power-Point presentation with dozens of head-shots of women (shots pulled from the internet), with the appropriate tag lines in a selection of different type fonts and colors. She had a recommendation for the font styles that she preferred for the print ads, and she was exactly on-target: Dawson and I loved them instantly. Miranda envisioned a multi-stage campaign: initially, we'd introduce the _Babe_ line; then we'd ask "Are you a _Babe_?" and then we'd invite, "Join the _Babe_ Nation." The campaign was cleverly crafted to attract buzz before we even unveiled the line itself. Everyone would be talking about _Babe_ by Books/Plum Designs! No longer would Dawson have to beg for stores to stock his line: they'd be coming to us because their customers would _demand_ it!

Keira Sanderson was next, with help from Melinda Walker and Stella O'Reilly. Using the demographic information Melinda had provided, Keira and Stella had sorted through more model head and body shots than they wanted to remember in order to find us the perfect models. There were not only specific model recommendations for Joy and Miranda's TV and print campaigns, but also ones for Amanda's web site design and Kelly's catalog. They had the modeling agency information ready, and had checked to ensure that all the models were indeed available. Again--we gave them a green light!

Dawson and I met next with his logo designer, who'd taken our ideas and worked them into the perfect visual representation of our company: the gold-trimmed book with a plum cover, with our joined B and P initials in gold script.

"It's perfect," I marveled, my smile ear to ear. "Even better than I imagined!"

"David is excellent at what he does," Dawson congratulated him, "And now we can provide the specifics to the ladies for their marketing efforts. I'm thinking you also need a logo for your _Babe_ line. Have you thought of what you might want to do?"

"I actually like that script Miranda found--Kunstler Script, she called it--just a simple _Babe!_--with an exclamation point. What do you think?"

"Very tasteful," he agreed, "Yes, that works. And speaking of work--"

"You have the prototypes ready for me to see?" I guessed, remembering his promise.

"I do indeed," he grinned, "Step into our workroom, my dear Miss Plum, and you'll see the newest of your designs come to life! As well as the first two rounds of designs hot off the machines and ready to be labeled."

We walked down the hall and into the spacious workroom, where dozens of mannequins stood in neat rows, each wearing one of the designs I'd envisioned in my head. To see them actually real--it was a thrill I hadn't imagined! I jumped up and down with glee, and raced over to examine them more closely.

"Omigod! Omigod! They look soooooooooo beautiful! Dawson, you did a fabulous job!"

"_We_ did a fabulous job: we make an excellent team. Your exquisite designs, my production skills. And now we have a whole new line of lingerie ready to take the market by storm! The model shoots can start any time with these first dozen or so designs. Then in 2 days or so, I'll have the rest of these prototypes manufactured. I'll have our people get the hangtags printed, using the logos we've chosen, and we're closer than ever to our official launch."

"Speaking of, I spoke with Papa at _Rosa's_, and he gave me the name of his event planner. Tina and I have an appointment with him tomorrow to start making plans for the November 1 launch party."

"I'm sure it will be just as spectacular as your lingerie designs: you have an eye for this, Stephanie. A remarkable talent!"

"Which you're letting me use, to make my dreams come true! Thank you, again, Dawson!"

"No thanks necessary, Stephanie! I told you: without you, I'd be barely staying afloat, falling further and further behind in the market. Instead, I'm going to be on trend for the first time since my dear Maggie did our designs."

We were interrupted then by the delivery of the proofs from my photo shoot yesterday. Dawson opened the package, and his eyes widened. Then he looked up at me, then down at the photos speculatively. I hadn't seen them yet, but I could tell he was more than pleased. "I'm thinking I need to get these to Joy and Miranda ASAP."

"I don't understand?" I reached for the photos, only to have Dawson pull them back with a devilish smile.

"I have something special in mind, after today's presentations. Trust me?"

"OK," I said, still puzzled. "What do you need me to do?"

"You've already done it," he assured me, "Now we have to see if this little idea of mine will work as brilliantly as I suspect it shall!"

"Very mysterious," I chided him.

He checked his watch, "Indeed! We might still have time to get this done today. I'll call you as soon as I have everything we need. Meantime--don't you have some more designs to sketch?"

I rolled my eyes long-sufferingly, "I _always _have designs to sketch! They're never-ending in my brain! Don't you know that by now?"

"I do--and that's a _good _thing, my dear!" He gave me a wink, and disappeared, leaving me shaking my head in complete confusion about what had just transpired.

That confusion was cleared up just before the end of the day, when Dawson invited me, Tina, and the eight women who had started work today, to the conference room next to his office for a very special production.

Miranda, her brown eyes sparkling with excitement, took charge of the presentation.

"Ladies and gentleman: I give you the initial print advertising campaign for _Babe!_, the new line of must-have lingerie, by Books/Plum Designs!"

She pressed the button, beginning her Power Point presentation, as the room plunged into darkness. There were shouts of OOOOHHHH and AAAAHHHH from literally everyone, as _my face _flashed on screen in all of the poses Tyler had shot me in yesterday afternoon!

"Steph! You're _gorgeous_!" Tina yelped. "I mean--yeah, I knew you were gorgeous, but what I mean is---you're---you're---"

"Stunning!" whispered Stella.

"Incredible!" from Amanda.

"Mesmerizing!" from Dawson.

There were other words, and all equally complementary. Everyone had been knocked for a loop--especially me!

"Meet the face that will launch this company," Joy said, smugly. "Dawson gave us the proofs, and asked if we could put our ad campaign together using your photos."

"And the result is magic!" Miranda interrupted.

I was still speechless. _I_ was going to be the star of the initial marketing campaign? "But what about what we talked about earlier? Different women, different ages and ethnic backgrounds?"

"That's the _second_ wave of the campaign," Joy assured me, "We go ahead with that as planned. But first we hit the market with _your _face--we introduce the woman behind the new _Babe _design line. The Plum in Books/Plum Designs. We let everyone see you, and want to know more. And they will! They'll want to know everything about the woman whose designs are going to take the world by storm!"

"We visually identify _you _with _Babe_," Miranda explained, "And those images will have everyone talking, trust me! You have a face that was born for this, Steph!"

"I'm not wearing any lingerie in any of these ads, though," I warned them all, seeing a few amused smiles. "I'm going to sign off on this only because you think it will work--"

"And it makes perfect sense--" Dawson agreed.

"That too," I continued, "But absolutely _no_ lingerie gets worn by this woman, you promise?"

"Promise," Joy and Miranda chimed. Dawson nodded his head.

"Omigod!" I took a deep breath, the idea of my face on billboards across the nation starting to sink in. I'd be in magazines from _In Style _to _Cosmo_ to _Vogue _to _Allure--_and every other damned magazine we'd researched as appealing to our target customer. If I thought _You Tube_ had made me a celebrity, I was _really _in for it now! "My mother is going to freak!"

Tina grinned, "You're going to drive her around the bend, for sure! Good thing you're getting ready to move out of the Burg and into a gated private community. You're going to be the newest fashion celebrity, Steph!"

"We're going to have the ads printed up immediately," Joy revealed, "And they'll start appearing everywhere within a matter of weeks! We'll set up some newspaper and television interviews for you."

"_Interviews_?" I squeaked.

"Interviews," Miranda confirmed.

"What have I gotten myself into?" I looked around the room at my friends--my employees--and my partner. "You really think I can do this?"

"I think you were born for it," Dawson said firmly.

I took a deep breath, then imagined Carlos' smoldering chocolate eyes when he returned to see all that I'd accomplished while he'd been gone.

"_Proud of you, Babe_," I could hear his husky voice in my head.

I smiled, my confidence now soaring, "Let's do this!"

The _Babe _phenomenon was born!

_A/N: Go to my PROFILE page for a direct link to the Power Point presentation of Stephanie's Babe! ad campaign. Hope you enjoy!_


	65. Chapter 65

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. Hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 65

Before I knew it, it was Halloween! Our Books/Plum Design launch party was set for tomorrow evening at the Bel Aire Estates Private Club House--and we had a list of 150 VIPs who had RSVP'd to attend. VIPs who consisted of the Mayor of Newark, several city council members, representatives of every television station in the NJ/NY market (as well as CNN, CNBC and MSNBC), an assortment of local and national print media--both newspaper and magazine--as well as buyers for a number of upscale stores such as Macy's, Bloomingdale's, Nordstrom's and Saks Fifth Avenue. It was incredible, but we were THE ticket everyone wanted to have.

And we had one hell of a party planned! Tina and I had worked enthusiastically for weeks with Guillermo Vargas, _Rosa's _event planner, who had proved to be both creative and organized. He'd toured the Club House, and taken charge of ordering the decorations we needed to turn the multi-purpose room into a fashionable and trendy Club. We were going for vibrant colors, trendy décor, and the kind of event that everyone would be talking about for months to come.

Papa had jumped into things as well, and had recommended no less than 17 types of Cuban canapés that would be served to our guests, along with the requisite alcoholic beverages. Tina and I had enjoyed the enviable task of tasting each and every one of the proposed dishes: from beef, as well as chicken, _Empanadas_ (mini fried meat turnovers); _Pincho de Carne _(marinated beef skewered with onions and peppers); _Pincho de Pollo _(slow roasted marinated chicken with onions and peppers); _Arroz con Pollo Cuban Style _(chicken and rice with green peas and pientos in a saffron broth); _Arroz con Gandules _(yellow rice with pigeon peas, seasoned with Spanish sausage, smoked ham, chili peppers and cilantro); _Ceviche-stuffed Cherry Tomatoes _(flounder marinated in citrus juice, jalapeno peppers, ginger, onions, and cilantro) ; _Paella Valenciana _(rice with shrimp, scallops, squid, mussels, chicken, Spanish sausage and herbs); _Congri_ (black beans blended with white rice); _Carne Fria _(a cold meat roll of ground beef and pork loin cooked in a delicate seasoned beef broth); _Tortilla de Platano _(sweet plantain omelette with sweet peas and red peppers); and half a dozen others.

We'd also worked with _Rosa's_ dessert supplier--and mine--Dipaolo Bros. Bakery, and their cake artist (and true artist he was) Giovanni Lombardo. Giovanni had given us an ingenious design for our dessert: cupcakes in all flavors, decorated with--_unbelievably_--fondant-shaped multi-colored lingerie! That's right: we were having _lingerie cupcakes_! My jaw had dropped to the floor when Giovanni suggested the idea, and I'd watched in awe as he quickly sketched out a half dozen or so off-the-top-of-his-head ideas that he could use to decorate the cupcakes. I'd recovered quickly, and asked if I could provide him with photos of some of our _Babe! _lingerie designs, and have him come as close as possible to copying those designs in fondant. Giovanni had nodded enthusiastically, and when Tina and I had dropped in later in the week to see the prototypes, we'd been beyond thrilled to see the results. Not for nothing--but the cupcakes tasted just as good as they looked! This was going to be our top secret show stopper.

That and the fashion show itself. Yes, we were planning a runway show of our new _Babe!_ line to take place as the high point of the party! Keira and Stella had booked the models; Guillermo had arranged for a catwalk to be built so that the models could strut their stuff down the runway and show our designs to all the VIPs in attendance. We had dramatic strobe lighting and pulsing techno-music, and the show had been rehearsed until it was sheer perfection in motion!

Our marketing materials were ready to be unveiled, as well: 2 by 3 foot promotional posters of our print campaign--both my initial ads and the next '_Totally Babe!_' wave of the ad campaign were to be hung all over the Club House.

Our TV commercials had been taped and edited and were now ready to be screened for the media for the first time, on giant flat screens. We had marketing portfolios ready for distribution to all of our guests, in boxes stacked high and locked in the supply room next to the multi-purpose room. We had gift bags containing sample lingerie, plum-colored T-shirts bearing the gold _Babe! _logo, and tear-sheets of all the available designs in the _Babe! _line. There wasn't a damn thing we hadn't thought of--and we were so fired up it was excruciating to have to wait that extra day until the party could occur!

I'd become quite practiced at the whole media thing, and I was feeling confident and on top of the world. My TV commercial shoot had gone well, and would begin running November 1st in all markets. The magazines with my _Totally Babe!_ ads were hot off the presses and waiting to be unveiled, and I had never felt better about my decision to do the campaign.

My family had been invited to the launch party, as well as Mary Lou and her husband Lenny and other long-time friends from the Burg,. Happily, I had managed to keep my mother from finding out that I was the star of the ad campaign. Sure, she'd seen the TV interviews which had begun airing, as well as the local newspaper interviews--not that I'd heard anything from her about it. No--she was keeping her mouth shut, doing her 'why me?' routine for my father and my grandmother.

Grandma Mazur was my inside source, and she called daily to update me on life in Chez Plum, since I was still avoiding dinners due to my busy schedule as well as my nerves. I also didn't trust my mother not to invite Joe Morelli to dinner, no matter what my father had warned her. According to my grandmother, that dictum was causing a lot of friction around the house.

"Honestly, Stephanie," my grandmother groused, in her daily phone report, "Your mother's become a bigger pain in the rump than ever since you've been boycotting the dinner table. Not that I blame you any, mind you. Lord knows, I'm spending as much time out of the house as I can myself: fortunately, Stiva's has been really hopping lately. Lots of funerals--and it's done great things for my social life. I even got me a hot new man: Wilbur Sneed. Course, he's not puttin' out for me as of yet, but I'm figuring once I can get my hands on that sexy new lingerie you'll be selling--"

_Good God. I didn't need that visual in my brain! _Well, I had said we wanted to appeal to all age ranges, didn't I? "I'll give you some samples, Grandma. How's Daddy handling it?"

"He's holding firm to the 'no Morelli at the dinner table' rule," she responded, "Not that it would do her any good to invite him--even if your father _did_ allow it--since you aren't coming by these days. But she's been yakking with Joe's mother Angie every day, and the two of them seem to think that you're perfect for each other. So it's far from being over, I'm afraid."

"Does she not get that I'm _engaged_?" I all but screamed in frustration. "If she starts this crap tomorrow--"

"I'll put a muzzle on her," Grandma Mazur assured me, "You got alcohol planned to serve at that there party of yours, right? Your mother's taken to tippling secretly--or so she thinks. Not much gets by me. She keeps a bottle of whiskey stashed in the lower cabinet, right next to the pots and pans. Just stick a drink in her hand and stay on the other side of the room. You'll be fine!"

"Just what I need: my mother getting drunk at my launch party!" There were really no words. _Why me? Claudia Tizbotti's mother isn't a secret tippler!_

"Your mother and father have spent the last two weeks arguing practically non-stop about Valerie and Steve and the half-assed advice that your mother's given her. Your father wants Valerie to get a lawyer and sue the bastard for divorce; your mother wants her to suck it up and accept that it's what men do. If I have to listen to one more blow-out about it, I swear, I'm going to pack my bags and move in with you. The yelling is getting on my last nerve!"

"Dad's _yelling _at her?" Wow! I'd never heard my father mad enough to yell. _Ever. _It just wasn't like him.

"He's completely fed up with her, and her interference in your life as well as Valerie's. She's out of control, Stephanie, she's taking it all personally. As if you and your sister were deliberately out to embarrass her among all her friends and neighbors."

"Good God. She needs to get over it. Not everything is about her. Frankly, I've got too much going on in my life now to give her and her Burg neighbors much of a thought at all."

"I'm proud of you, baby girl!"

"Thanks, Grandma!"

"You going to the Halloween party tonight?"

"Of course, I go every year."

The Burg threw a huge Halloween party at the VFW hall every year, for charity. And every year Tina, Mary Lou and I and a number of our friends got dressed up and had a blast! Thankfully, my Wonder Woman costume had come through for me this year--and I had it ready to change into as soon as I got off the phone with Grandma. I was looking forward to partying with my friends and releasing a little of that excess energy I'd been building up over the last few weeks.

"I'm bringing Wilbur, wait until you meet him! We're coming dressed as Cleopatra and Marc Anthony, you can't miss us. He's got great legs, and most of his teeth. He's a real stud muffin, trust me."

"I'm looking forward to meeting him." That, and having a fork stuck in my eye.

A knock sounded at the door, and I gave a quick look at my watch. Probably late trick or treaters! I'd been answering the door non-stop since I'd gotten home from work, but I'd thought the onslaught was finally over.

I had barely enough time to dress and get on my way to the party, so I said a hurried goodbye to Grandma Mazur, and ran to answer the door with what was left of my basket of candy in hand.

"You're supposed to say 'trick or treat'," I announced, throwing open the door. But the trick was on me. "Mateo!" I blinked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

He gave a slow smile, and helped himself to a Three Musketeers bar. "I'm making a special delivery from Carlos."

I gave a goofy smile, "Carlos sent me a Halloween present?"

"He said it was your favorite holiday," Mateo replied, pulling a small wrapped box from the pocket inside of his jacket. "This was timed for today. And when you open it, I think you'll see why."

I ripped the wrapping off the package eagerly, and found--to my absolute delight--another charm for my bracelet! This was a gold charm of the Superman logo, and I let out a whoop of joy when I saw it.

"It's _perfect_!" I jingled my bracelet, which bore the Wonder Woman charm, "Now I've got both of us together on this--and it won't be long before he's back with me for real! I can't believe how thoughtful he is. Oh--what am I saying? Of course I can believe it! I'm getting flowers and cake and presents and not a day goes by that I don't feel him with me."

Mateo smiled, "That's what he wanted, Steph. For you to know he's thinking about you, and that he'll be home before too much longer."

"Did you get the sketch for me again this time?"

He'd given me the Wonder Woman sketch Carlos had previously drawn for the jeweler, and I kept it in a memory box in my bedroom--together with the scraps of paper we'd written some of our fantasies on (the ones the hotel maid had collected so carefully), and the letters Carlos had written me.

Mateo nodded, handing it over, "And I have something else for you, as well."

"Another letter?" I asked, hopefully.

"Another letter," he agreed, handing it over. "I'll let you read it privately. Happy Halloween, Stephanie! I'll see you at the launch party tomorrow!"

"Thanks again, Mateo! I'm going to wear the bracelet to the party, that way Carlos is there with me!"

He gave me a quick hug, and left. I waited all of 2 seconds after he was gone before I opened the letter, careful not to tear it despite my eagerness.

"_Dearest Babe-_

_I know you love Halloween, and I'm willing to bet that you're all set to go out and celebrate with your friends--dressed as Wonder Woman, no doubt! I'm sorry I can't be there with you, but thinking of you in that tight little costume with those boots--well, you know what the sight of you in boots does to me! I'm missing you terribly, and I know you're missing me too. But this way you can have me with you every minute of every day, and I can share in the triumphs of your life, and comfort you in any sad times. Know always that you are in my heart, Babe, and that thoughts of you make me stronger and able to carry on and do what needs to be done. Be fearless, Wonder Woman! Fly high, and don't be afraid to set yourself apart from the crowd. You are unique, you are meant for great things--and don't let anyone stop you from achieving your dreams!_

_I love you, I always will,_

_Your Superman,_

_Carlos"_

Damned mascara! I sniffled, grabbing a tissue and carefully dabbing it under my eyes. I read the letter twice more, committing it to memory, as I had his previous letters. Then I tucked it and the Superman sketch into my memory box, and dressed for the Halloween party. I was running a bit late, but I didn't mind in the least: I'd had the most wonderful surprise, and my heart was soaring.

My euphoria lasted another 27 minutes. Until my POS car decided to give up the ghost, as it were, about 15 minutes away from the VFW hall, in an area of town that wasn't the best place to be stranded. Particularly not when you were alone, female, and dressed in a Wonder Woman costume. Of course, if you were _male _and dressed in a Wonder Woman costume, I was willing to bet you'd be in even _more _trouble…

"Crappity crap crap!" I tried the car for what had to be the dozenth time--then realized that no matter how much I wanted the POS to work, it wasn't going to cooperate with me. I was stuck. I grabbed my cell phone, intending to call AAA. That's when I discovered that my battery was dead! "Terrific! That's just what I need!"

I looked around, and didn't see any store open. Not that I was particularly eager to unlock the door and take a hike over looking for help, mind you. Nope, that was not a smart move, and I knew it. I bit my lip and tried to come up with an intelligent plan. My friends would be expecting me, and when I didn't turn up, they'd call my cell. And they'd get no answer. So they'd probably call my apartment. And get my machine. The odds that they'd climb into their car and drive around looking for me weren't good; that they'd happen upon me in this particular neighborhood were even worse: so much for trying to make up time by taking a shortcut.

_Now what?_

Well, I couldn't sit here all night--it wouldn't get any earlier, and the neighborhood wouldn't get any safer. I looked around, wondering if I should climb out of the car and try to see if I could hail a cab. Which I very much doubted drove in this part of town….

Just then a car pulled up behind me, and I jumped about 3 feet when a man climbed out of it and walked up to me, bathed in shadows.

_Holy shit! _I looked around for a weapon, but found nothing that would even remotely work.

I saw the figure stop at my driver's window, and I prepared to scream bloody blue murder. The windows were rolled up, and the door was locked--but trust me, that was little comfort at the time.

Then I heard the knock at the window, and a familiar face appeared. "Hey, Cupcake! I thought that was you! What are you doing in this neighborhood?"

Joe Morelli? I exhaled in relief, and rolled down my window. "My car died. I was taking a short-cut to the VFW hall---"

"Not smart."

"No kidding?" I rolled my eyes in disgust.

"This is a lousy neighborhood to be in, especially for a woman at night."

"Actually I'd already figured that part out all by myself," I said with a trace of annoyance. "Which is why I'm still in my locked car and not out looking for help."

His eyes examined me intently, missing nothing, "Not going to find any help dressed like that, Cupcake. Nice outfit, though."

"Would you stop calling me Cupcake?"

"Wonder Woman, huh? Have you called AAA?"

"My cell phone battery died," I sighed deeply, "I don't suppose you could make the call for me?"

"I guess I could," he grinned, "If I heard the magic word…_Cupcake_."

I resisted the urge to tell him what he could do with his damned Cupcake. I rolled my eyes. "Please?" _Bastard._

"OK, since you asked so nicely." He made the call, and handed me the phone.

I relayed my information, and got the unwelcome response that there would be a 45 minute wait--minimum. Apparently, Halloween was a very busy night. No way in hell I wanted to sit here for 45 minutes waiting for help! I looked around, and decided to let the damned car brave the neighborhood itself and call AAA tomorrow. "Morelli? Could you either give me a lift to the VFW or let me use your cell again to call my friends so they can pick me up?"

There was a long pause.

"_Please_." God, I hated the smug bastard!

"I guess I could always drop you off there," he smirked, "But you realize you've probably signed your car's death warrant? By the time AAA shows tomorrow, your car will be in pieces and scattered all over NJ in chop shops."

"Better it scattered in pieces than _me_," I opined, climbing out of the car. I slammed the door, leaving my POS to its fate. I guess I was going to have to hit Dawson up for an advance of some of my salary: I was going to have to go car-shopping, after all.

By the time Morelli and I pulled up at the VFW hall, I was over an hour late. I knew my friends would be worried sick. Morelli parked his car and followed me inside, and I caught him staring at my ass--and not surreptitiously, either.

"Thank you for the ride," I said, my temper starting to rise. I wasn't enjoying being ogled; and I could already hear my mother's pitch to my father, '_The least we can do to express our appreciation to Joseph is to invite him over for roast chicken and mashed potatoes. And Stephanie would be colossally rude not to come for dinner and thank him personally. God only knows what would have happened to her if he hadn't driven by_.'"

"No problem, Cupcake. Anytime. Particularly when you're dressed like that."

"Stop calling me Cupcake!"

"You free for pizza some night next week?"

"What part of '_I'm engaged_' are you having trouble with?"

"Your mother doesn't seem to think that's going to last."

"My mother doesn't know diddley-squat about my life."

"She knows enough to be sure he's the wrong guy for you."

"Carlos is the _perfect_ man for me. _I_ have no doubt about that whatsoever. And _my_ opinion on it is the only one that matters, fortunately."

"Two years or so---"

"17 months, one week."

"--is a long time for a woman to have to wait on a man. She has needs. If you know what I mean." He gave a leer.

"Thank you for your staggering insight into a woman's mind, Morelli. You don't know jack about my needs, and you never did."

"Seems to me, I knew all about your needs back at the Tasty Pastry--"

He did _not_ just go there! I felt my blood boiling, and I let him have it with both barrels. "You knew _nothing_ about my needs, then or now. Nothing! Get that? I was stupid and immature and I regret that day more than I can ever say. And you had the nerve not only to walk off without a second glance, but you also had the distinct lack of class to write about it on Mario's Sub Shop wall. And God knows where else!"

"Sorry about that, Cupcake."

"Sorry? You're _sorry_? Too late. Wait! You know what? You _are_ sorry! A sorry specimen of a human being! And I don't want there to be even the slightest misunderstanding between us, Morelli: you're _scum_! You were then, you are now. You're hitting on a woman who's in love with another man. And you're doing it not once, but _twice_--and I'm not interested! Got that? I don't care what my mother wants--hell, she can date you herself if she thinks you're all that hot a catch! I'm not available for pizza or anything else. And I'm in perfect control of my needs--thank you very much!"

I gave him the Burg death glare, and flounced off, not even looking back. But I was still willing to bet that he was staring at my ass. Morelli was nothing if not predictable!

As I'd expected, my friends had been calling me non-stop for the last 45 minutes or so, and they descended upon me en masse the minute they caught sight of me. I explained about my car, and Morelli, and got sympathy on both tales. None of my friends--particularly Mary Lou--were Morelli fans. She'd seen the hell I went through when he'd left his little poetry about me all around the Burg.

Tina was, as she'd bragged, dressed as a naughty cowgirl. She was getting male attention, but unfortunately it wasn't the kind of men she was looking for--not princes, just frogs. I guess her sopa was going to have to wait for Lester, after all.

Lenny was paying closer attention to Mary Lou than usual, no doubt because she was for all intents and purposes, half dressed--at least by Burg standards. 'I Dream Of Jeannie' seemed to be the perfect costume to spice up their love life!

Grandma Mazur introduced me to her beau, and then she and Wilbur burned up the dance floor. Frankly, they made kind of a cute couple, matching soup chicken legs and all. She seemed happier than I'd seen her in years; and since I loved her, I was glad for her. God knows, she couldn't be having much fun living in Chez Plum these days.

The party was a blast--despite my car problem--and my crowd of friends and I were among the last to leave. Mary Lou and Lenny drove me over to what had once been my car--now jacked up with no wheels and missing the radio--and they waited with me while AAA sent a tow truck to haul it to Al's Auto Body. Not that it was worth fixing, mind you. I figured I'd give Al a call tomorrow and see if he wanted to give the POS a decent burial. It was good for scrap metal, and little else. Oh well; I knew the time would come when it and I would go our separate ways. I had just hoped it would last a bit longer until my royalty payments were coming in regularly. _C'est la vie! _("Such is life!")

Arriving home close to 2am, I stripped out of my Wonder Woman costume, and hit the shower. I was tired, but in a good way. I knew I would sleep well tonight. And when I woke, I'd be one step closer to living my dream.

I re-read Carlos' letter, kissed his picture, and headed off to dream-land.


	66. Chapter 66

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. Hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 66

There was an up-side to the final demise of my POS car last night: at least I didn't have to drive it to Bel Aire Estates tonight and have everyone in the press wonder how I could be such a hot-shot new lingerie designer and still drive such a beat up old piece of junk. As I'd suspected, Al of Al's Auto Body had been more than willing to take custody of what was left of my car; I'd signed it away without looking back.

Then I'd called Mary Lou and arranged for her and Lenny to pick me up and drive me to the launch party tonight. Mary Lou was bubbly on the phone, and I had a strong hunch that Lenny hadn't been too tired last night: I'd seen the way he was looking at his daringly dressed wife all night!

"So, Lenny likes genies, huh?" I teased.

"Omigod! Does he ever! We went at it like teenagers, Steph! I think I might buy the costume."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously! That was the most action I've gotten in like _forever_!"

I grinned, "Tina's naughty cowgirl outfit didn't meet with the same kind of success, I'm afraid."

"She was royally pissed, too: she had more duds than studs buzzing around her last night, poor girl. Your grandmother looked like she had a good time, though. What was his name? Wilbur?"

"Yeah: Wilbur Sneed," I agreed, "She was really kicking up her heels, wasn't she? I hope I'm that lively when I'm her age!"

"You'll have Carlos, girl," she reminded me, "You two will be going at it like bunnies, just like you were in the hotel that weekend. It was so romantic of him to think to send you a Halloween present."

"And the most beautiful letter," I sighed, "Carlos is the most romantic man in the world."

"Hard to believe that slug Morelli thinks he has a chance in hell."

"_A woman has needs_, he said. Do you believe it? As if I'm going to let _him_ anywhere near me after the last time! Even if I _weren't_ totally in love with Carlos! _Asshole_!"

We exchanged a few more insults about Morelli, and I filled her in on the fighting that was going on between my parents over Valerie and me.

Mary Lou gave a disgusted groan. "Your mother just amazes me, Steph: and not in a good way! Here she has her younger daughter kicking ass in the fashion industry, and instead of being supportive, she's trying to push you towards a guy who's made you beyond miserable! Same thing with Val: any mother with a brain would be demanding her daughter leave the bastard! I don't get her, Steph, I just don't!"

"I've given up trying to understand what goes on in her mind, Lou," I confided, "I just know that I'll never be the daughter she wants me to be--and I'm determined to stay true to myself. My Dad's been great, and so has Grandma Mazur. And all my friends--you and Tina especially! You're both the best!"

"AWWWW! I love you too, Steph! I can't wait for tonight! Are you excited?"

"Are you kidding? I'm ten feet off the ground! I've got the perfect little black dress--you saw it--and some to-die-for shoes! I've been on the phone to Guillermo and Eric and Papa and Dawson and Giovanni all day! I just wish it would _happen_, already!!"

"It will, soon enough! What time do you want us to pick you up tonight?"

"Well, the party starts at 8, but I'd like to be there by 6 just to make sure everything is set. If you're sure that's OK?"

"It's _more_ than OK, Steph! After all, I'm getting a ton of free lingerie out of the deal! Did you decide what you want to do about your car?"

"I thought about it: obviously now that it's gone to car heaven, I'll need to replace it. But frankly, I've got so much going on in my life right now, I don't have time to go shopping for a new car. To say nothing about having no place to put it--I'm not really all that anxious to park a new car in this lot, especially with the construction trucks starting to show up daily for the condo remodeling projects."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to rent a car for the next 2 weeks, until I move," I decided, "That way I can avoid the hassle of car shopping, and save up a few paychecks before I have to fork over a payment. And when I _do_ move into the townhouse, then I'll have a garage to park my new car in. To keep it safe and out of the elements! Makes more sense, don't you think?"

"Yeah, it does, actually. A lot of sense! You want me to drive you over to the rental agency?"

"Not necessary, thanks! I'll call Enterprise tomorrow: they pick you up. And the good thing is, I'll be driving a car that isn't going to fall apart on me when I least expect it. That's a good thing to get used to: I'll be spoiled by the time I get the new car!"

The doorbell rang then, and I said goodbye to Mary Lou and padded over to answer it. There was no one there. I stood, confused, looking up and down the hallway. No one in sight! _Weird. _I was just about to close the door, when I happened to look down and I saw a manila envelope lying on the floor. It had my name on it.

I gave another look around, then picked up the envelope and gave it a once-over. It was about 9"x12", and was addressed to me in block letters. My street address. No stamps. No return address. My spidey sense didn't go off, so I opened it.

To my utter amazement, it was an 8 ½"x11" glossy color photo--of Carlos! A young Carlos! I looked around again, then took the envelope into my apartment and examined it more closely.

Carlos looked to be in his late teens or early 20's. The photo was taken from the waist up, and he was wearing a long sleeved red sweatshirt and a smirk that told me he knew exactly how hot he looked. His hair was short--but not too short--and an unruly lock of it fell over his forehead. His right arm was folded across his chest, and his left arm was crossed in front of it, his chin resting on his left hand. He studied the camera with the confidence of youth, and his eyes were deep pools of chocolate.

I couldn't take my eyes off the photo! It was a new side of Carlos--a history I had no idea about--and I couldn't for the life of me figure out who would have sent it to me--or why. Surely Mateo, if it were he, would have given it to me last night, along with the Superman charm? If not Mateo--then who? Papa? I doubted it. Alejandro? Unlikely. Another idea niggled in my brain, but it made no sense, so I didn't pursue it.

Opening the envelope again, I checked more carefully, and discovered a note tucked inside. It was written in a careful penmanship. A feminine hand, I was certain.

_Stephanie, mi querida niña-_

_You are missing your handsome young man, and that is as it should be. I know you love him very much. I know that Carlos loves you, as well. This makes me happy for both of you. _

_I have seen you on television in the last few days, and in the newspapers as well. It is a good thing you do, to make a life for yourself while he is gone. A woman needs a life of her own, dreams that are hers alone to pursue. I know tonight is a very special night for you. I wish you much joy and much success in your business venture. _

_This photo was taken the day Carlos enlisted in the Army, when he stopped by to see me to say goodbye. It is one of my favorite photos of him, because his eyes show a peace with his decision. I have seen that peace in his eyes again recently, thanks to you. _

_Do not tell anyone of this letter or of this photo, I implore you. I have good reasons for this request, I assure you. One day I will explain them to you. Until then, I ask for your silence._

_Keep this, and think of how much Carlos loves you. He will return, I know, and his eyes will shine with pride to see what you have achieved in his absence._

_Please forgive me for not revealing myself to you, but I wanted to give you something on your special day. And I knew that you would cherish this photo as much as I do._

_Sincerely,_

_A friend who wishes you well _

I found myself dissolved in tears, whether from the powerful words of the letter--from someone who loved Carlos a great deal, I was sure--or from the myriad of emotions that the letter had unlocked deep inside me. Her gift was indeed special, and I sent a silent 'thank you' to the unseen woman who had thought to share this memory of hers with me on today, of all days. That it was a woman, I had no doubt.

Who was she? Why had she chosen to share the photo and the letter, and then implored me not to reveal either to anyone? I was no fool: I had my suspicions. I thought of the elderly woman who had beamed at me, wishing me a happy birthday with many blessings. The woman who had known Carlos since he was a baby. _Rosa. _She would have had access to my address, from the business cards I'd left with Papa, Alejandro, and Guillermo. Even with Mateo. She was after all, Papa's mother--and Mateo was his nephew. She had seen us in the Porsche that night in the parking lot. She would have photos of Carlos. But why didn't she want anyone to know that she'd contacted me? It made no sense. Especially if, as Mateo said, Rosa did not speak English! How could she then have written this lovely letter?

Regardless, I decided to keep this woman's gift a secret--whoever she was. She'd done something indescribably wonderful for me; given me something beyond price. I looked again at Carlos' youthful face--before the Army, before Delta Force. I wondered what he had been like back then. He'd told me he was into gang life when he was young; but by the time this photo had been taken, I knew he'd left that life behind. I saw what she meant about the look of peace in his eyes: this was a man who knew what he wanted. He felt so close to me now….

"I wonder if she'll share any other photos with me?" I whispered to him. "I would so much love to see what you looked like growing up, Carlos. Were you always this handsome? I'll tell you a secret: I was an ugly duckling. I'll bet you never went through that awkward phase, did you?"

He smiled enigmatically back at me.

"No, of course you didn't! You probably had to beat the little girls off with a stick, from when you were a baby on. What are you doing right now? Right this very second?"

Carlos said nothing, still.

"Are you looking at a picture of me--maybe that one of me wearing your shirt, with those boots that got you so excited--and are you talking to me, just as I'm talking to you now? Do big bad-ass Army guys do that sort of thing, Superman? Probably if you do, you'll never admit it. But that's OK. Your secret is safe with me."

My finger stroked his face tenderly.

"I wish you could be here with me tonight! I'd say you wouldn't believe it--but you would. You had faith in me from the beginning. You make me feel like I can do anything. Be anything. Take chances and not crash and burn. I know you'll always have my back, Superman. And I'll always have yours. I love you. And I'm going to think of you tonight--you'll be with me, deep inside my heart. And I know you'll be proud of me, like I'm proud of you. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Carlos. Ever. I'm waiting for you. And no matter how long it takes, I'll be here still waiting. Loving you. Trusting you. Knowing we were meant to be."

I wiped a tear from my eye before it hit the photo, and I went in search of an extra frame. I was going to put the photo where I could enjoy it daily. I had a whole gallery of photos of Carlos, of Carlos and me together…this would be another in my collection!

The rest of the day passed more slowly than I wanted it to. I spoke with Tina several times, and she stopped by to take me to lunch and to drive me to the jeweler's so that I could have my new Superman charm soldered to my bracelet. We stopped briefly at Dipaolo Bros. bakery and confirmed that the lingerie-decorated cupcakes were almost ready for tonight. Guillermo would pick them up later today. I paid the balance due on the account, and then we motored over to _Rosa's_ to touch base with Guillermo and Papa.

We hit the restaurant during the lunch hour, so they were crowded. But Papa greeted us with a smile, and we spent several minutes chatting by the bar as he filled us in on the progress of things.

"We have extra chefs in today, Estefanía," Papa assured me, "Do not worry, all will be in readiness for your big party tonight! I myself have checked and re-checked that the freshest ingredients have been procured. Guillermo reports to me directly, I have told him to give your event the highest priority."

"Is he here?" I looked around, but didn't see him anywhere.

"No, he has gone to the Bel Aire Estates Club House, he says. I spoke with him by phone not 20 minutes ago. He has met the truck of decorations, and he is supervising things as they are set up. All is according to our timetable--perhaps a bit early, to tell the truth. Things are well in hand, Estefanía."

"I'm very grateful for all you've done, Papa!"

"Nonsense, my child, it is my pleasure to have a small part in this most exciting of nights! You are radiant! Success agrees with you, yes?"

"It does," I smiled, "It's a very thrilling night! Even the weather is cooperating!"

"For a beautiful woman, even the forces of Nature will bend."

"I came to invite you to join me and a few close friends after the party is over, Papa. I have bought a new townhouse at the Bel Aire Estates, and we're going to have a champagne toast there after the launch party has ended. I'd very much like for you to see it, and to join with us in our private celebration."

"I shall be delighted!" Papa beamed happily, "So? You have made the leap into home ownership? You and Carlos will raise your lovely family in this home upon his return?"

I felt myself blushing, "I hope so! Carlos will like the town home very much, I think. It has 4 bedrooms, so there will be more than enough space to start our family. Of course, he may want to move to a single-family home when he comes back--and if he does, that's what we will do. But I think this will be home to us for a few years. I hope so."

"And I do, as well! It is a lovely area, I drove over to the Club House with Guillermo yesterday to--_how do you say_--scope things out! I can see you and Carlos and your children living happily there. Again, you chose well, Estefanía."

My cell phone rang, and I excused myself to take a phone call, as Tina and Papa made small talk. It was Dawson, and we went over last-minute plans for the party. He was just as keyed up as I was: I suspect everyone on our staff was jumping out of their skin with excitement!

"I'm leaving now with a van full of lingerie," he announced, "I'm on my way over to the Club House. I've gotten a call from Kelly, she and Joy have picked up the last of the posters from the printer. I've got some workers scheduled to meet them and get the posters framed and up on the walls. Eric Marshall has called a half dozen times or so--that poor man sounds dizzy with glee! I expect he's going to make quite a few sales appointments tonight!"

"Yes, I'm sure he will. Tina and I are here at _Rosa's_ with Papa, all's well on this end. Guillermo is on site at the Club House doing his decorating thing; you'll run into him when you get there. We've just come from Dipaolo Bros. The cupcakes are almost ready to be picked up. I've paid the account."

"Excellent, what's your next stop?"

"I'll meet you at the Club House. We can do a walk-through and make sure everything's set up as it should be. Then I guess it's time to go home and get dressed!"

"Is there anything you need me to do?"

"No, thanks. I'm fine. I've got Tina--my car died last night. She's my wheels today."

"How are you getting to the event tonight? Do you need me to stop for you?"

"No, Mary Lou and her husband are doing that. They're picking me up early--I'll be there by 6pm."

"I should be there around the same time. I'll have the check to pay off Papa and his people. And the modeling agency has already been paid, so that's the last of the financials."

"I'll see you in like 45 minutes?"

"Absolutely! Say hello to Papa for me."

I did, and Tina and I got on the road a few moments later. We hit that sweet spot of traffic, and had a smoother trip than we'd expected. In less than 30 minutes, we were pulling up in front of the Club House where we spotted Guillermo in charge, directing the workers who were busily transforming the multi-purpose room into the hip private club we'd envisioned.

We spent some time chatting with him, then I went in search of Dawson. I found him in the media center, which had been hijacked for the evening as the models' dressing room. He was setting out the order of the lingerie for the runway show, and I double-checked the cards to ensure that the lingerie would be properly described by the professional announcer we'd hired.

The hair and make-up artists had arrived, and we went over our specifications with them. All was in readiness! We took a few more minutes to double check that the gift bags were all filled, and that they were locked up in the storage room awaiting the arrival of our guests.

I spoke with Eric Marshall, and thanked him for his cooperation. He'd seen the catalog we'd just gotten from the printer yesterday, and the credits given to Bel Aire Estates--as well as his contact information--had him more than euphoric. Dawson had described him as 'dizzy with glee': he was so damned dizzy I had to keep myself from laughing. The man was positively shimmering with excitement! He was passing out his business card to anything that moved, and he couldn't seem to stay off his cell phone. Did I say, he was _excited_?

Finally, we'd done all we could do, and it was time to leave. We all needed to get ready for the evening. Tina dropped me off at my apartment, and headed home to change her clothes. I hopped in the shower, and started my routine. Exfoliation. Shaving. The works.

An hour later, my hair in perfect condition (wonder of wonders), my nails newly colored, and my make-up expertly applied, I shimmied into my new little black dress. Checking the mirror, I grinned back in satisfaction: I looked _goooooood_! More than good! I looked---well, I looked damned fine! I had no complaints. None at all. That shampoo and conditioner Mr. Alexander had recommended was indeed worth every penny, as he'd promised.

I checked my watch, and gave a quick call to my father to confirm that they were all coming. My Dad was in a great mood: not only was he excited for me, but Grandma Mazur had told him that she was going to be driving to the party with Wilbur. That meant he was free of 'the crazy old bat' (as he called her) for the evening. I didn't bother to ask how my mother was doing: I wasn't in the mood for any more drama.

When Mary Lou and Lenny stopped by some 15 minutes later, I was dressed and ready to roll. The nervous excitement was almost overwhelming, by this point. Everything I'd worked for--_we'd _worked for--was on the line. Tonight would be the ball-game. Make it or break it. I closed my eyes and tried to take some deep steadying breaths, but my stomach was hosting a convention of butterflies.

As it turned out, I needn't have worried: we'd planned this event down to the letter, and all of our hard work paid off! _Did it ever!_

Guillermo and his minions had done a phenomenal job: the multi-purpose room looked nothing at all like it had mere hours ago! Instead, 22 sleek modern-looking tables filled the room, each seating 8 people. Tables and chairs were swaddled in a white fabric casing; each table was lit from beneath with a different vibrant color in the palettes of our new line of _Babe! _lingerie. Imperial purples, electric blues, verdant greens, hot pinks, and shimmering magentas filled the room. The catwalk stood imposingly, waiting for the lovely models to grace it with their presence. The lighting was dramatic; the music was pulsing.

The first of the VIPs started arriving just before 8pm, and Dawson and I stepped forward together to greet Newark Mayor Corey Booker and several city councilmen. We accepted complements on our stunningly effective posters--many of which bore my face. The press began filing in shortly afterwards, with our local media rubbing shoulders with fashion magazine editors from _In Style, Cosmopolitan, Allure, Marie Clare, Vogue _and dozens of other magazines that would soon feature our company's ads. Reporters from television news circulated, indulging in the lavish Cuban canapés that Papa had provided. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves enormously, and Dawson--and especially I--were in great demand.

The female guests were ooohing and aaahing over the lingerie tucked into their gift bags--we'd included a number of samples with a pre-paid envelope and card they could use to exchange the lingerie for another size, style or color of their preference. There was an audible buzz about the 'Totally _Babe!_' campaign, and I was delighted to see that most people were smiling ear-to-ear clearly having a great time. I'd never gotten so many compliments in my life!

I introduced my staff to the editors, giving credit where it was due, and was thrilled to see that my friends too were being inundated with praise. It seems our efforts were richly appreciated, and most importantly--the lingerie itself was a huge hit! Everyone was raving about it. Its beauty. Its elegance. Its sensuality. Its luxury.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my parents enter and look around in total awe. My father wore a look of such pride I had to wipe a tear away. My mother--well, I'd never seen her look like this! Her mouth hung open like a fish, and she was wide-eyed as she walked around the room and took in the scene--including the giant posters of her younger daughter. I took a deep breath, composing myself, and made my way over to join them.

"Daddy!" I raced into his welcoming arms.

"Pumpkin! Honey--you did so good! I expected things would go well: I knew you had it in you. But this! This is more than I ever imagined!"

I beamed proudly, then braved a look at my mother. I really don't know what I expected out of her. A classic 'why me?' rant, perhaps. Stony silence, another distinct possibility. After all, my mother was not my biggest fan these days--if she ever had been.

She met my look for a long moment, saying nothing.

I braced for the worst.

"This is quite something," she said quietly.

"Ellen," my father warned, sotto voice.

"You didn't tell me you were going to be modeling the lingerie." Her eyes gave me that look--the one that used to leave me quaking whenever I'd done something to disappoint her.

"I'm not _modeling_ the lingerie, Mom," I said firmly, not backing down. "I'm _representing_ my brand of lingerie. There's a big difference."

"You're not taking your clothes off?" she squinted at me, no doubt trying to judge the veracity of my statement.

"We have professional models who do that. I'm staying dressed. Those are the arrangements we made."

"All right, then. I suppose that's _something_, at least." She pursed her lips, and gave another long look around the room. "Is your grandmother here?"

"I haven't seen her yet. She and Wilbur might have hit traffic."

"Wilbur," my mother sighed, grabbing for a cocktail from the tray of a passing waiter. "He must be in his nineties."

"He seems quite taken with Grandma." I noticed Dawson heading in our direction, and I gave him a finger-wave. "Here's my partner, Dawson Books. Dawson, meet my parents, Frank and Ellen Plum."

They exchanged pleasantries--or as much in the way of pleasantries as my visibly reticent mother was willing to provide--and Dawson sung my praises, as my father beamed proudly and my mother tried to decide what to make of it all.

Grandma and her beau Wilbur made a grand entrance just about then. She was dressed in a tight above-the-knee dress of red satin. Yes, red satin. It was _not_ a pretty sight. I saw my mother visibly flinch as Grandma, practically attached to the hip to Wilbur, sashayed into the room. Spotting us, she made a bee-line in our direction, dragging poor Wilbur pell-mell through the crowd.

"Ain't this a pip?" she grinned, "You done good, baby girl!"

"Thanks, Grandma. Hello, Wilbur. Glad you could make it."

Wilbur gave me a happy smile, "Hello, Stephanie. Congratulations!"

I introduced Grandma and Wilbur to Dawson, and they made small talk as I slipped away to greet the newest guests. Moments later, Dawson joined me, and we found ourselves chatting easily with buyers from Nordstrom's and Saks Fifth Avenue. They were more than impressed, and both promised we'd be hearing from them tomorrow about placing large orders.

Papa's canapés were a huge hit, and everyone wanted one of every variety. Having tasted them, I really couldn't blame people! We had a few moments to talk as he stepped out of the kitchen and did a once-over to determine which particular canapés were the most popular.

"Your party is a marvelous success, Estefanía," he congratulated me, "I'm sure your company's future is assured, after tonight! Carlos would be very proud of you."

"He would indeed," came a voice behind me. "Hello, Stephanie! Tio!"

"Mateo!" I leaned in for a hug, and he smilingly introduced me to his vivacious wife Lucia. She sent him a questioning look, one I didn't fully understand, but he gave her a wink in return, and whispered something in her ear.

She nodded, then gave me a lovely smile and offered her hand, "Thank you for the invitation, Stephanie. I've been looking forward to this! I saw your interview on the news last night and they showed a few of your designs. You're enormously talented!"

I thanked her, and watched as she greeted Papa with a hug and a whispered comment that had him looking slightly uncomfortable. I looked at Mateo questioningly.

"She's just giving him grief over not visiting the house as often as he should." Mateo gave his uncle a smile, and Papa took the opportunity to flee back to the kitchen.

I had no idea what that was about: but it definitely had undertones that interested me. Lucia didn't seem to care that she'd driven her in-law away, and we conversed for awhile as Mateo grabbed drinks for all of us and toasted to our company's success.

Eric Marshall was very much in evidence, and from the ear-to-ear smile on his face, and how frequently he was handing out business cards, I was willing to bet he was enjoying himself enormously. I had a feeling that tonight was going to be very profitable for him.

Allison Forrester, the woman who'd given me the tips on how to score the furnished townhouse, was here tonight as well. She introduced her fiancé Kevin, and I thanked her again for her invaluable assistance. She brushed it off, and insisted that I'd more than repaid her by giving her some of the most elegant lingerie she'd ever owned. I took the opportunity to suggest to her that she consider posing for a head-shot for our upcoming 'Are you a _Babe_?' ad campaign. Delighted, she took my card and promised to call. Her fiancé was smiling too--once he understood that she, like me, was keeping her clothes on. I'd promised her a fee in exchange for her modeling; additionally, she'd get a professional photo shoot that would net her publicity for her part-time work as a singer.

"I could be a lingerie model for you, too," my grandmother volunteered.

I turned around, taken by surprise. The idea of my seventy-something grandmother posing in lingerie was frightening. But the barest of an idea skittered through my brain. We had said we wanted to appeal to women of all ages. And we had decided that our print ads would be head-shots of real women. We'd already lined up Tina, Mary Lou, Melinda, Miranda and several others from the staff to take part in the next wave of ads. Why not my grandmother? We were hiring hair and make-up artists to make the women feel confident and look their best. A head-shot might not be that frightening…

"I've got an idea," I confided to her, looking around, lest my mother hear us and freak out. "Come in to the office tomorrow afternoon, and let's talk about it."

My grandmother's eyes sparkled with excitement. "You really mean it?"

To see that look on her face was worth anything! "Yeah," I decided, "I mean it. But not a word to Mom or the deal's off. OK?"

"Mum's the word. I'll have Wilbur drive me," Grandma gave me a wink, and strutted off, a new confidence in her step.

What the hell had I just done?

Oh, well--this was our opportunity to put our money where our mouth was, after all. Either we wanted to appeal to a wide-range of women, or we didn't. Either we wanted to aim the campaign at real women, or we wanted to hire professional models to act as the face of _Babe!_

I'd go with my gut feeling and schedule a photo shoot for Grandma Mazur, and it would be up to Joy and Miranda and our crackerjack advertising staff to come up with an ad that would do _Babe! _proud.

A few moments later, the time had come to start the show. Everyone took their seats, and Dawson and I made our way to the stage to say a few words and open the show. He again praised me effusively, and I returned the favor. Then we introduced our evening's emcee, and made our way to our seats so the show could begin.

The lights dimmed. The giant screens surrounding the room flashed the Books/Plum Designs logo, followed by the _Babe! _logo. Then as the techno music pulsed, the screens flashed our ad campaign posters, starting with my dozen or so _Babe! _shots, followed by the new 'Totally _Babe!_' shots that would begin to sweep the market in a matter of weeks. The models started their strut down the catwalk, each poised and confident, dressed in _Babe! _lingerie in every color of the rainbow. They swept down the catwalk, paused dramatically, then strutted back to thunderous applause.

I was near tears, I was so proud of myself! I found myself stroking my promise ring, pulling memories of Carlos into my head so that he could share tonight's triumph with me. Looking over, I saw Mateo and Papa watching me carefully, and I sniffled, and gave them an embarrassed finger wave. Both gave me huge smiles in return. Lucia stood first, applauding loudly, and to my amazement, other tables followed until everyone in the room was on their feet!

The emcee introduced Dawson and me again, and we took bows as we joined the line of models on the catwalk. It was the most surreal experience of my life, bar none.

_A/N: Check my PROFILE for links to a slideshow of the Babe! launch party. Also, check out my PROFILE for the This Never Happened photo album, newly updated to include that pre-Army photo of Carlos, the lingerie cupcakes, Wilbur Sneed, Mateo's wife Lucia, and photos from the launch party. Hope you enjoy them!_


	67. Chapter 67

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. Hope you enjoy!_

_A/N: My laptop bit the dust last week, so I've been out of commission for a few days. Fortunately, I've got a new one now, so that problem is resolved! Thanks to all who emailed concerned for me. I'd taken a bad fall, but am now feeling much better. I will probably not be able to post daily for awhile, but hope to post updates 2-3 times weekly (knock wood). Thank you to all who have reviewed, I try to answer you all personally, if I missed anyone, I apologize. Know please that I am very grateful for your reviews, they do fuel the muse and ensure future chapters. _

Chapter 67

_Ricardo's POV_

Estefanía was glowing, her beautiful face radiant with joy and pride. She had earned her phenomenal success with her hard work and creative imagination: I too was bursting with pride. Why? Because my younger son had chosen an exceptional woman--one with far more than physical beauty to recommend her. That Carlos would be beaming with pride were he here tonight, I had no doubt.

That my son would be furious with me, I knew also. Unfortunately, Mateo's lovely wife Lucia had overheard my mention of Carlos to Estefanía, and I'd seen her look quickly at her husband to question how Estefanía knew him--and why Carlos would be proud of her for tonight's achievements. I held my breath, afraid that Lucia would--as women do--ask that question out loud. Then disaster would fall upon us all: Estefanía would discover that we were her lover's family; she would feel betrayed because we had kept the secret from her; and Carlos would be furious upon his return to discover that his fiancée had been swept into the family despite his carefully dictated conditions. All because of my careless words!

Thankfully, Mateo leaned in and said something to silence Lucia. I suspect he assured her that he would tell her all when they were alone. That he could convince her to keep quiet about Estefanía around the women of the family, I did not doubt: she would accede to her husband's wishes regarding his family. However, the look my nephew's wife gave me thereafter was one that made me quite uncomfortable. Her cutting words made me even more-so: _'Stephanie will not forgive your deception. Papa? You have this poor girl calling you Papa? Shame on you!' _I took the first opportunity to escape back into the kitchen before Estefanía questioned the sudden tension in the air. I did not want her evening ruined by our family drama. Nor did I want our budding friendship to come to a premature halt, were the secret to be revealed somehow. I would have to guard my words more carefully in future!

The fashion show, when it started sometime later, was like nothing I'd ever seen before! As a man, I definitely appreciated the parade of lovely models dressed in nothing but colorful lingerie. That the lingerie was quite exceptional, I had no doubt: the crowd gave the line a standing ovation. Perhaps I would even buy some for my own lovely wife, Teresa. We had been married for 38 years, after all: a little spice in the bedroom would be quite welcome. I made a mental note to stop into one of the stores in the mall once Estefanía's _Babe! _line had been stocked….

The party ended sometime around midnight; and as Mateo, Lucia and I walked with Estefanía and her invited guests to her newly-purchased townhouse for a champagne celebration, I reflected on what I had learned during the evening. Not only was my future daughter-in-law lovely and talented, she was also extremely hard-working and tremendously loyal to her friends, many of whom worked for her company now. I had spoken with her partner Dawson Books briefly, congratulating him on his success, and he'd given all the credit to Estefanía and her friends. Then he'd told me of her generosity in giving them her 10% share of the company to divide between them. My heart swelled with pride to think that she would one day be the mother of my grandchildren. Truly, she was a most remarkable woman!

She was also extremely undervalued by her harpy of a mother. I'd chatted with her parents Frank and Ellen Plum, as well as her grandmother Edna Mazur and Edna's beau Wilbur Sneed--and I'd seen that everyone (including Wilbur!) had been more supportive of Estefanía than had her own mother! My heart ached for the lovely child. I felt the stirrings of shame, as well: was this how Carlos saw me? Someone who stood stern and disapproving, instead of loving and encouraging? Of course he did. My conduct, however well-intentioned I had justified it to myself as, was nothing less than abysmal. No wonder Mateo had given me that plain-speaking wake-up call! My conduct toward my son would change, once he returned--of that, there was no doubt.

Estefanía had introduced me to her family as a friend of Carlos', and I'd seen her mother give me the once-over. It became clear from the conversation that Ellen Plum did not favor her daughter's plans to marry my son. Why? Prejudice, clearly. I bit my tongue when Mrs. Plum dismissed every mention of Carlos, and instead changed the subject to some apparently-approved suitor named Joseph Morelli. That Estefanía had no interest or even respect for this Morelli person couldn't have been more obvious to anyone. But--at least until her husband interrupted sternly--Mrs. Plum was selling her candidate for all she was worth. The father in me seethed on behalf of my son. But Estefanía remained inflexible: my Carlos was the man she loved; _he_ was the man she would marry. This Morelli was not even a consideration to anyone but her mother.

The phone call had come as the party was winding down: Estefanía's friend Mary Lou Stankovic had gotten word from her babysitter that her daughter Michelle had been taken ill with that stomach virus that was going around (the one that had wreaked havoc in my son Alejandro's house). Mary Lou and her husband Lenny immediately made plans to leave the party early. This left Estefanía without a ride home, and I of course immediately offered my services: I knew that she would not appreciate driving home with her mother. She gave me a slight smile, one that told me that she knew exactly why I'd offered, and appreciated the gesture. But the necessity for my chauffeuring skills did not present itself.

Ellen Plum immediately spoke up, requesting that the Stankovics drive her home as well. Home being Chambersburg. Mrs. Plum claimed to have 'the most dreadful headache, thanks to that incessant loud pounding music'. I saw Frank Plum give his wife an angry look, and I saw Estefanía's lip quiver just a bit. Imagine leaving the scene of your daughter's triumph early? Because of some no-doubt non-existent headache, yet! My dislike of the woman had no boundaries.

Frank Plum, to his credit, swiftly pawned his harpy of a wife off on the Stankovics, announcing that _he_ intended to stay for the rest of the party--a party he pronounced 'a rousing success'. That won him a huge smile from his daughter, and a sniff of disapproval from his prune-faced wife.

The anxious Stankovics, with a glacial Mrs. Plum in tow, had left soon afterwards. Then I'd watched both her father and her grandmother give Estefanía loving hugs and whispered words of praise that had her smiling again in no time.

I'd gone in search of Mateo and Lucia, and filled them in on the situation. Mateo was beyond disgusted, as was his wife. But he didn't seem surprised: I took it that Estefanía had discussed her strained relationship with her mother with my nephew, as well as (I was sure) my son. I would like to think that _I_ would never behave in such a manner to Carlos--but, in truth, my eyes were being opened tonight once again. And once again, I was not liking what I saw concerning my behavior towards Carlos. No wonder he thought I didn't love him! No wonder he and Estefanía had bonded straight away! I knew damned well that if Carlos were here tonight, Mrs. Plum's mythical headache would have become real the moment she'd put one step out of place and given her daughter a moment of unhappiness. That was as it should be: my son would protect his woman.

The townhouse (when I finally saw it) was quite attractive, and I nodded approvingly as we made our way up the walkway. Guillermo had, earlier in the afternoon, stocked the immaculate kitchen with champagne and glasses. After a brief tour of the premises, we gathered together for a toast to Estefanía and Dawson and their friends, as well as to the success of the Books/Plum Designs company and their _Babe! _label.

This was clearly the first time that Frank Plum and Edna Mazur had learned that Estefanía had purchased a townhouse of her own. There was a moment's silence before the two spoke, and I gathered that they both recognized that Ellen Plum was the reason that the important news had been kept from them.

Estefanía's father had been quietly supportive, telling her that she'd made a smart decision to move out of 'the Burg' (which I gathered meant Chambersburg). He knew of the neighborhood, he said: he had a poker buddy whose son lived only minutes from here with his family. He nodded in approval, and button-holed the Bel Aire Estates sales consultant Eric Marshall to find out all he needed to know about the townhouse to ensure that his 'Pumpkin' (as he called her) was well-taken care of.

Her grandmother Edna's reaction had been less understandable, from my point of view. She'd clapped her hands excitedly when Estefanía had told the story of her apartment going condo, and her resulting decision to go looking for a new place to live. It seemed Edna Mazur wanted to buy the condo, using Estefanía's option of sale! She grabbed on to Wilbur Sneed's arm and the two of them put their heads together for a few minutes before announcing that they were moving in together ('living in sin', she'd cackled) and that they wanted to--as they say--'get the ball rolling' on the sale of the condo.

Estefanía had been shocked--not surprisingly--but she'd given both Edna and Wilbur kisses and warm wishes when she recovered her voice. Then she'd agreed to sign away her rights to the condo to her grandmother. Another bottle of champagne was opened, and toasts were made all around to the newest announcement. Frank Plum, in particular, was nothing less than euphoric. In fact, he looked as if he'd just won the lottery, and gave Wilbur a hearty slap on the back that almost knocked the frail senior over. Apparently, Frank wasn't going to miss Edna's company in the Plum household!

I received a surprise of my own moments later: Estefanía had pulled me aside and asked me if I would consider doing her a favor. _Anything_, I'd said, smiling. And I meant it. She gestured around the kitchen--which was quite well-supplied with quality appliances--and sighed deeply.

"I can't cook. Except for just the very basics, I mean. Grilled cheese and tomato. Scrambled eggs. Frozen pizza. If I can nuke it, I'm good. If I _can't_--well, I'm out of luck. I eat cold cuts, and peanut butter and olive sandwiches, and more take-out than is good for me. And now I have this absolutely gorgeous kitchen--and I have no clue what to do about cooking in it."

"I shall be glad to help you, Estefanía!" I gave her my most charming smile. This was perfect: I wanted a way to connect with her, to develop our friendship, and to learn more about the son I didn't know at all well. She needed to learn to cook; I was a professional chef. Could the opportunity have been more perfectly-crafted? No, I think not. "I shall teach you to cook, myself!"

"You will?" She looked stunned, "I was hoping for a few tips, I know you're a busy man, but--"

"Not on Mondays," I assured her. "_Rosa's_ is closed on Mondays, alas: the staff need time off. _I_, however, do not. I shall welcome the opportunity to step into this kitchen of yours on Monday evenings and teach you how to cook all the foods you wish. All these delicious Cuban meals you will then cook for your young man Carlos when he returns from war, yes?"

She blushed beautifully, "Well…._yes_. I want to make a good home for Carlos, and for our children one day. And I have to confess, Papa: I'd never in a million years have pictured myself being domestic. I'm anything but a Domestic Goddess, believe me. But what with having the new kitchen, and wanting to learn about Cuban food so I can select the perfect food for our wedding reception--"

The wedding reception! _Another_ reason I jumped at the opportunity to find someplace other than _Rosa's_ to regularly meet with Estefanía! Mateo had told me that my Mama had approached Estefanía and her friends, after I'd returned to my kitchen on the evening of her birthday. That my Mama, of all people, had somehow gotten an opportunity to meet Carlos' woman was _frightening _to me!

My Mama adored my younger son with burning intensity. If she ever learned that Estefanía was her beloved Carlito's intended, there would be no preventing her from latching onto the poor girl and making her life a living hell! She would rally the other Manoso women behind her--and poor Estefanía would not have a moment's peace from that point on. The Manoso women were relentless when their minds were fixated on something--or someone. This intrusion on his woman's privacy was what Carlos had feared--and rightfully so. This I needed to prevent, at all costs. And I would.

Not that I really had much to worry about, when I examined the matter closely. After all, my Mama had no idea that Carlos had a serious relationship, nor did she know that Estefanía even knew my son. And of course--_thankfully_--my Mama did not speak English. From what Estefanía had told Mateo, she herself did not speak Spanish. And fortunately she had no idea that the elderly woman who had accosted her was my Mama--_the_ Rosa of _Rosa's_. Disaster had been averted that evening. But still--it was best to be careful and ever-vigilant in future!

And I would be.

My Mama had been coming and going at all hours of the day and night in the last few weeks. Her social calendar had picked up tremendously: if she wasn't going out the door with one friend, she was making plans to meet another. She was a whirlwind; a social butterfly all of a sudden! She'd turned up unexpectedly at _Rosa's_ several times in the last two weeks, no longer sticking with her usual Saturday only girls-night-out routine. It was only a matter of time before my Mama would again arrive at _Rosa's_ on a night when Estefanía was a guest.

That could not be helped: I could not lock my Mama up, nor could I dissuade the fair Estefanía from gracing our establishment. But I'd spent several sleepless nights worrying that my Mama would somehow hear Estefanía discussing her fiancé by name. My Mama's aged ears would perk up at any mention of "Carlos" (her favorite word)--and it would bring too much attention to Estefanía were that to happen.

No--any discussion between Estefanía and me concerning the menu or other details of the wedding reception could not occur at _Rosa's_! I'd given thought to suggesting that we meet at her place of employment--but that was impractical. How could I explain that? There was no way, and I knew it. I'd discarded that idea and tirelessly searched for an alternative. This suggestion of hers was my salvation! We would cook together in her kitchen on Monday nights, and any planning for the wedding reception would happen under her roof, not _Rosa's_! I was proud of myself for masterfully handling the situation.

Estefanía was delighted at the prospect of personal cooking lessons from a chef of my stature. I waved aside her gratitude. Truly, this was the answer to my prayers!

My euphoria lasted until Mateo, Lucia and I walked back to our cars in the Club House parking lot. Estefanía and her father had just pulled away; her grandmother and her gentleman friend were moments behind them. The lot was almost empty.

"Are you out of your mind?" Lucia demanded, looking over to her husband for support as she challenged me.

"It is settled," I said, imperiously. In truth, I was becoming tired of my nephew's wife's attitude towards this.

"It is not the smartest plan in the world, Tio," Mateo said quietly. "I wish you had not suggested it."

"Estefanía suggested it. I merely agreed."

"She asked you to come weekly to her townhouse to teach her to cook? I doubt that," Lucia snorted.

"It does sound unbelievable," Mateo shook his head, sighing deeply.

"She said she wished to learn to cook. _She_ approached _me_." I defended myself, "Where else are we to cook, I ask you? In _Rosa's_ kitchen? Of course not! We cook instead in Estefanía's new townhouse kitchen. I have agreed to do this. It is the perfect solution to my dilemma."

I'd made them both aware of my reasoning concerning my Mama, and the need to remove the discussions about the wedding reception from the restaurant. In truth, I'd expected congratulations on my clever plan. I did not expect--nor did I appreciate--their united disapproval.

"This entire scenario has _disaster _written all over it," Lucia maintained firmly. "Carlos will flip when he finds out the wedding reception is being held at _Rosa's_. You know he will! The last place in the world he wants to hold a celebration like that is at a place that for years--_for years_--has been a war zone. The place where he's been ordered to participate, despite not having an ounce of interest in being a bus boy, a waiter, a chef or even a manager. Carlos hates _Rosa's_! And you know it, Tio!"

God help me, I did. But that would change, once Carlos returned from war and found that I had accepted his decision not to step into the family business. Once he realized that I was now supportive of his career aspirations, and his relationship with the fair Estefanía!

"Carlos took Estefanía to _Rosa's _for their last night. It was a romantic evening that will supercede all other memories he has of the restaurant. Fear not."

"I _do _fear--and so should _you_, Tio! Carlos does not do anything he doesn't want to do, you of all people know that. I won't be at all surprised to find that the very moment he discovers that Stephanie plans to hold their reception in _Rosa's_, he'll put his foot down and change the location to _anywhere else_!"

"It's a real possibility," Mateo agreed.

"_Nonsense! _Carlos will accede to Estefanía's wishes. She wishes to have the reception at _Rosa's_."

"Because she thinks it's his favorite restaurant!" Lucia howled, "Do you not follow the logic here? Once she finds out it _isn't_, she'll bail on you so fast that your head will spin. And she'll go anywhere at all that he decides is better. Particularly when she finds out that Papa--I still can't believe you have her calling you that--is Carlos' father. And that you didn't bother to tell her _any _of that for 18 months while you ingratiated yourself into her life as a friend she could trust."

"I _am_ a friend she can trust," I bellowed, "And I asked her to call me Papa because I was trying to help Carlos!"

"How exactly did _that_ work?" Lucia gave me the fish eye.

"We agreed he would bring his woman to _Rosa's_ to meet the three of us: me, Mateo and Alejandro. If we liked her, we would sign his Will and accede to his wishes."

"In other words, you blackmailed your son. About how he was going to handle his own estate. Stellar so far. Continue."

I gave her a stern look to let her know I did not appreciate her attitude. She did not blink an eye. "Carlos told us he would introduce Mateo as his friend and attorney; Alejandro as the chef of _Rosa's_; and myself as its owner."

"I'm certain he didn't see this mess coming," Lucia muttered under her breath. "_So? _I'm still waiting for the part where you're helping Carlos?"

"He hadn't thought out how to introduce me. He started the introduction, then realized he had no alternative but to introduce me as Ricardo--and that he clearly did not want to do. I assume he must have told Estefanía that he was named after me. And he did not want her to put two and two together and get four."

"So in this, _he's_ just as bone-headed as _you_ are," my nephew's wife crossed her arms, and rolled her eyes. "And _you_--" She indicated her sheepish husband, "--you're every bit as much in danger as Papa here is. Do you not get that? Stephanie--when she finds out that you've lied to her from the get-go, stepped into her life as her attorney and friend and neglected to tell her the most important bit of information of all--she'll feel betrayed by _all _of you! By Carlos, yes. But she loves him. She'll forgive him. But you three? Alejandro, I don't blame. He isn't here tonight getting '_Papa'd_' to death, and he isn't acting as her attorney in a position of trust. _He's_ the only one who stands a chance in hell of getting out of this without having her hate his guts. You two are going down. In flames. No question at all. It's just a matter of time."

"I didn't volunteer to be her attorney," Mateo protested, "She called me. She needed help and I gave it to her. And I'm certain that Carlos would be happy to know I was watching over her, in case she has any difficulties. I promised him I would--from afar. But this none of us expected---"

"I'm still working on how telling her to call you Papa helped Carlos," Lucia reminded me. "In any way, shape or form."

"He opened his mouth and said, 'this is----' then realized he couldn't say 'Ricardo' without opening himself up to questions. So I stepped in and said 'call me Papa'. And Carlos told her everyone did. And it sort of snowballed from there," I admitted.

"This is what Carlos calls a real clusterfuck," she waved her arms dramatically. Both Mateo and I cringed, not only at her language, but also at the fact that she was right. "I think you need to be honest with Stephanie now, before the next 17 months worth of lies makes the situation completely untenable. If you throw yourself on her mercy now, you have a chance of having her work through her anger without major damage to your future relationships."

"Then I'll be breaking my word to my son," I responded stubbornly, "And that I will not do."

"I gave Carlos my word, Luce," Mateo said, unhappily. "I can't betray his trust."

"But you can betray Stephanie's instead?" she challenged, "_Fine! _Do whatever! Just don't come whining to me when it blows up in both your faces. She's not a stupid woman, she's going to put the pieces together. And it's not going to end well for either of you. I just want my protest on the record."

"Duly noted," her husband sighed, "We just need you to promise not to spill any of this to the other women of the family. Tia Teresa and Mama and Abuela Rosa--to say nothing about Carlos' sisters--"

"I'm not going to say a word, trust me!" Lucia waved off the suggestion firmly, "I'm so far out of this mess, I don't even want to know how you think you're going to pull this off. And as mad as Stephanie is going to be at you both--I _guarantee_ it's going to be a walk in the park compared to what's going to happen when Tia Teresa and Abuela Rosa find out that Carlos has a fiancée and you neglected to mention it to them. And you've been in her life for the last 18 months, lying to everyone until Carlos comes home and spills the truth. Talk about a nuclear melt-down! This one will take the prize!"

Mateo and I gave each other sick looks. Lucia was right: and we all knew it. My wife, and particularly my Mama, would have our balls for this one! And my daughters would be just as upset. I'd warned Carlos that the Manoso women would not take kindly to the secret--but then I'd agreed with his plan and started keeping secrets of my own. Now, there was no way out of the mess. _None._

"At least we will avoid my Mama running into Estefanía making her wedding plans in _Rosa's_," I maintained, determined to press for some credit on my plan--which now seemed poor and pathetic.

"I hate to break it to you geniuses," Lucia shook her head, "But with the press Stephanie is getting from this _Babe! _line of hers, it's going to be a downright _miracle _if she doesn't do an interview where she tells the public how she came up with that name for her lingerie label--and then names her beloved and lets them know that she's counting down the days until they're married."

There was a long moment of silence.

Talk about a _clusterfuck_!

Mateo and I were beyond speechless by this point. We'd never--I mean _never_--in a million years anticipated _that_ disaster!

Lucia gave us both a scornful look, "_Men! _You're so damned _clueless_!"

Then she stalked over to the car, climbed into the passenger seat, and slammed the door.

Game. Set. Match.

We were soooooooooooo screwed.


	68. Chapter 68

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. Hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 68

Our _Babe! _launch campaign was an overwhelming success: in the 2 weeks that followed our launch party, we were completely _inundated_ with orders from all the major department stores that we'd targeted to sell our upscale line. Everyone wanted to stock _Babe! _lingerie, it seemed. Our phones rang off the hooks, offers poured in, and opportunities abounded! Not only were we now selling at Bloomingdale's, Nordstrom's, Saks Fifth Avenue and Macy's--but also at Neiman Marcus, Marshall Fields, and Dillards. And _they'd _come to _us_, not the other way around.

We were also being sold in numerous bridal salons around the area, thanks to some very ingenious marketing from Tina, Mary Lou and me. We'd decided that, as long as we were visiting salons to plan my wedding, we'd provide the salon owners with tear-sheets with photos of the lingerie and contact information on how to become a supplier. Our efforts had met with rousing success: I was recognized from my print and TV ads, and everyone wanted to be a _Babe! _themselves! The idea had proved so successful that we now had our company's newly-hired sales force contacting bridal salons nation-wide to offer them the opportunity to stock the line.

That wasn't the half of it: a week after the launch party, we'd even gotten a call from Harrods in London about taking _Babe! _international. Peter Swifford and Mateo were currently reviewing the contracts, and things seemed to be a _GO! _for mid-December. I'd even been invited to fly to London to promote the line to our overseas customers personally in a full-on media blitz. Me interviewed on British TV? The mind boggled!

Harrods wasn't the only surprise, either: we'd almost immediately thereafter gotten word that we were being named one of "Oprah's Favorite Things"! Our _Babe!_ lingerie would be featured on her annual Christmas gift-giving show, as well as in her magazine. Oprah, it seemed, had loved the gift basket of colorful lingerie that I'd had Tina sent to her. It had been a long-shot to target Oprah personally--but it had worked for us, big time! I was discovering that I was damned good at marketing, as well as design!

Dawson was working non-stop himself in the weeks following the launch party. He'd had to hire a tremendous number of additional workers in his factory--_our _factory--to keep up with the staggering production demands required by our cracker-jack sales force. I'd pass him in the halls, both of us flushed with excitement; we'd text message each other constantly to keep in touch with the latest news.

We now found ourselves riding a wave of publicity that stunned both of us. Especially me! My face was everywhere: in magazines, on television, in newspapers, on billboards all over NJ. All over the nation, or so said Joy and Miranda. I was getting stopped frequently for autographs and photo ops--which I welcomed far more for this, than for my infamous _You Tube _celebrity--and my office was usually hosting at least one visitor daily. Sometimes it was the press, other times it was a buyer for one of the major department stores or a fashion magazine representative. I'd even had Tina fielding calls from stylists for top _A-list _celebrities who "just _had _to have" the newest _Babe! _designs before they hit the stores.

Internet sales were soaring through the roof, now that Amanda and our web designer Sam Connors had gotten the BooksPlumDesigns site up and running. Our catalogs were raking in a large number of sales as well. The models were striking, and the location shoot at Bel Aire Estates had been a true stroke of genius: we'd gotten the catalog out in the mail in record time, and now company balance sheets--and our bank accounts--were reaping the rich rewards.

I'd heard from an ecstatic Eric Marshall, who'd sold no less than 6 townhouses as a direct result of the contacts he'd made at the launch party--and another 8 once the catalog had hit the market. The man was walking on air: he'd been named Top Sales Executive for his efforts, and had gotten a promotion, as well. I think it was safe to say that he considered that free furniture to be a very wise investment!

His associate Allison Forrester had, as she'd promised me during our launch party, come into my office to discuss doing a photo shoot for our '_Are you a Babe?_' campaign--and she'd eagerly agreed to take part, once she heard what we had in mind. She left with a bag full of stylish lingerie, and a huge smile on her face. Her shoot had gone tremendously well, or so Tyler (now our company photographer) had assured me. Miranda was still working her magic on the print ad which would result, so I took their word on how things had gone.

I'd also had Grandma Mazur in, the afternoon after the launch party, with her devoted beau Wilbur Sneed in tow. They'd gotten the grand tour of the place, and then I'd taken my grandmother in to meet Keira to set up a photo shoot with Tyler for her. She was dizzy with excitement over being 'a lingerie model': no matter how many times I corrected her, telling her she would not be posing in the lingerie itself, she waved me off. I finally stopped qualifying her contribution. If she wanted to call herself a lingerie model--well, _hell_! Go for it! Why not?

While she was in my office, we'd had a chance to briefly discuss the repercussions of my townhouse purchase, and her resulting condo ownership. As I'd expected, it hadn't been pretty at Chez Plum when they'd gotten home from the launch party. My father had delivered the unwelcome news to my mother, and she'd (as expected) hit the proverbial roof. Dad had told her that if she'd stayed at the party, she would have seen the townhouse for herself and been overwhelmed at its luxury. My mother had shot him a stony glare, and hissed that I was 'in over my head' and it was her duty 'as a loving mother' to rescue me from my 'foolishness'. My Dad had strongly disagreed, and things had gone swiftly downhill from there, reported Grandma Mazur.

It was the start of the War of the Plums--and so far, 2 weeks later, my father was still holding firm. He'd considered my mother's behavior at the launch party to be anything but 'loving'; and he'd made it clear that he was completely in my corner. He dropped by my apartment frequently, and he'd seen Books/Plum Designs--both my office and the factory--in person. He was being totally supportive, and we grew closer than ever.

Me and my mother, not so much. I'd gotten a blistering phone call from her the day after the launch party, and things had been said that couldn't be taken back. Enraged by my 'open defiance' in moving out of the Burg, she'd made her position crystal clear: I was 'not the least bit qualified to be a lingerie designer', it was 'just sheer dumb luck' that I was in the position I was in, and I needed to 'wake up and smell the coffee' before it was too late and I got totally in over my head to the point where I'd be 'a complete embarrassment to the Plum family' because of my 'unrealistic career expectations'. I needed to 'un-sign those damned townhouse papers' and 'hold onto that apartment for dear life before the balloon bursts' and I was 'out on the streets with nothing to show for it but a handful of old magazines'.

I fired back that she was completely wrong about everything--as usual--and that for once--_for once_--she might want to try pulling her narrow-minded judgmental head out of her bony little ass and see me for who I _really_ was. Not to mention trying the admittedly-impossible-for-her task of actually being proud of and happy for her own daughter. She hung up on me. We hadn't spoken since. That was perfectly fine by me!

Escrow had closed on my townhouse yesterday, and I now had the keys to my own little Slice of Heaven firmly in hand. My grandmother and Wilbur had wasted no time in signing the papers to make the condo their 'little love nest' (as Grandma Mazur called it). With my friends' help, I had collected my clothes and the few personal belongings I was taking with me, and moved in to my new home this morning, a Saturday. Tonight I would sleep in my new bedroom for the first time…and damn, it felt _good_!

I planned to start car shopping tomorrow, now that I had a safe place in which to park it. I had no clue what make and model I'd end up buying, but thanks to the overwhelming success of the line, I had enough money in my bank account now that I could afford to splurge on a new car, instead of my usual choice of a used car. I was beyond happy at that prospect: driving the rental for the past 2 weeks had indeed spoiled me. I wasn't worried about stalling in the middle of nowhere anymore, or having my battery die overnight and making me late to work. Life was good.

Unfortunately, I hadn't heard anything more from my mysterious photo-delivering friend (whom I was sure was Rosa). Mindful that she might not know that I had now moved--and not wanting to risk missing another delivery of a photo of Carlos--I'd hauled Grandma Mazur and Wilbur in to a celebratory lunch at _Rosa's_. I was planning on handing out my new business cards to Papa and Alejandro (as I had already done with Mateo), and generally making as much noise as I could to let it be known that I had moved to the Bel Aire Estates as of today. I could hardly ask Papa if his mother was around, or ask him to give her my business card--but I was really not going to be terribly surprised if we were to somehow run into each other at _Rosa's _this afternoon.

Why? Well, let's just say that my ever-dependable spidey sense had picked up on the fact that I was being carefully watched of late. I'd caught a glimpse of a petite silver-haired elderly woman not once, but twice, in the last few days. I saw her the first time standing across the street from my office building, as I emerged to climb into my rental car and head home. The second sighting--unbelievably--had occurred a block away from Pino's, when I was picking up a meatball sub for a late dinner. Both times, she was just a brief flash in the corner of my eye--then _POOF! _she was gone.

But it was _definitely_ Rosa, which had only served to solidify my firm belief that she was indeed the mysterious provider of that Carlos photo I treasured. The fact that she'd written her letter in flawless English and delivered it (or had it delivered for her) in such an unusual manner meant that, for some reason, she didn't want her family to know that she understood the language--or that she knew of my role in Carlos' life. I was now certain that she'd kept my secret about our improper use of the Porsche in her family restaurant's parking lot. And I intended to keep her secret, as she'd requested.

Why was she--in essence--stalking me? Well, I could only imagine that she was trying to determine if I had indeed kept my mouth shut about receiving the photo and her letter. If I could be trusted with her big secret. It was the only thing that made any sense to me.

This afternoon, however, I was tingling with excitement. I somehow was positive that _today _was going to be the day she made contact with me again. I can't explain it: I just _knew_ it! I needed to somehow figure out a way to ensure that we could speak freely, and to convince her that I was willing to abide by whatever conditions she set in order to continue our acquaintance. I wanted more photos--and I wanted the stories that explained them. _Desperately._

"Well, ain't this something!" Grandma Mazur exclaimed, eyes wide as we stepped into the elegance that was _Rosa's_. "This is where you're going to have the reception, baby girl?"

"Absolutely," I smiled, nodding to the hostess who led us to a table overlooking the garden terrace. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Gorgeous! And you say the food is good, too?" Grandma questioned, "It's going to be a hell of a party, that's for sure!"

"Thank you for the invitation to lunch," Wilbur smiled genially, "It was a wonderful surprise! And picking us up, and everything! What a treat!"

"I wanted to celebrate our new digs," I grinned back, as we picked up our menus and I recommended a few of my favorite dishes.

My grandmother ordered a mojito, and so did Wilbur. I stuck to an iced tea: I wanted to keep a clear head should Rosa indeed turn up. I hadn't seen her yet, but I remained convinced that she would make contact with me. In the meantime, I asked the server if Papa was around.

"_Papa_?" the woman looked confused, "Who's Papa?"

"You know--the owner! _Papa_!" I insisted. Hmmm!_ She must be new here!_

"Oh! You mean Mr. Ma--"

She jumped a good foot off the ground as Papa came barreling into her. I could have sworn he'd bumped into her on purpose--but that made no sense.

"I'll take over here, Lupe." He reached for her order pad, and the woman's brown eyes widened. From her shocked reaction, I had the distinct feeling that Papa _never_ waited on customers--and that he was making an exception in our case.

Lupe, as she was called, opened her mouth to answer, but he waved her off officiously. She handed over her order pad without another word, and headed back to the kitchen in apparent confusion.

"Papa! I'm so happy to see you!" I gave him an ear to ear smile, receiving one in return.

"Estefanía! It is my pleasure to welcome you again to my home away from home. And your lovely grandmother joins you today, I see. Mrs. Mazur, welcome to _Rosa's_. And Mr.---"

"Wilbur. Just call me Wilbur," my grandmother's beau replied.

"Call me Papa, Wilbur," he said smoothly, "And you, beautiful lady, you too must call me Papa. I insist!"

"Aren't you the one!" Grandma gave him a blinding smile as he leaned over to kiss her hand. "Call me Edna!"

We exchanged small talk for the next 10 minutes or so. I told Papa that we were celebrating our new changes of residence, which were now official. He'd toured the townhouse the night of the launch party, but hadn't known exactly when the move would occur.

I handed over my newly-printed business card, and he congratulated all of us on our good fortune. He'd seen the barrage of news reports on the success of the _Babe! _line (who hadn't?), and I filled him in on the news that I might very well be flying to London around Christmas time. He seemed extremely pleased for me, and I blossomed under his praise.

We set a date for Papa to come to the townhouse for my first cooking lesson--the following Monday evening--then he proceeded to expound on the menu so that my Grandma and Wilbur could get a better idea on what to order.

It was about that time that my spidey sense started to go into hyperdrive, and I felt a tingle on the back of my neck. Mindful not to call Papa's attention to myself, I oh-so-casually glanced over my shoulder. And I noticed that the leaves on a nearby potted plant were definitely moving. Did I mention there was no breeze in _Rosa's_? Yeah. Right.

I narrowed my eyes carefully, spotting a flash of silver peeking from behind one of the palm fronds. _Rosa! _Listening in on our conversation, well hidden from view. I doubted anyone had seen her; and if my spidey senses hadn't been on high alert, I might have missed her myself. But she was there. And she was _definitely _eavesdropping.

Which--if she didn't speak English, as Mateo maintained--would seem to be a rather pointless exercise in futility. Especially since none of us were speaking Spanish. Yep, this was one very interesting woman, for sure. I turned back to Papa, and gave him my most apologetic smile.

"Sorry! I have to visit the rest room! I'll be right back. I'll have the _Papas Rellenas_, and whatever else you recommend as an entrée!" I grabbed my handbag, and made for the ladies' room, in the opposite direction. I didn't look back, but I had a strong feeling that I was about to have company.

I waited all of 3 minutes before the door opened, and the woman herself appeared. She was fashionably dressed all in black, her silver hair pulled back from her face, and her dark brown eyes sparkling with mischief.

We looked at each other silently, each taking the other's measure. I wasn't sure how she wanted to play this. The moment dragged on. I took a deep breath. It was now or never!

"I wanted to thank you. Very, very much. The photo--the letter--they were precious gifts. I'm very grateful to you for thinking of me."

She nodded, then smiled slowly. I had a definite feeling that I had passed a very important test. Looking around to ensure that we were indeed alone, she reached into her oversized black bag and produced a smaller envelope than the previous one. She handed it to me--and it took all I could do not to tear into it then and there.

My eyes were riveted upon the envelope, and I bit my lip in utter frustration. It would so not do to open it here and now! I could never hide my emotional reaction from Papa and my guests. But that meant I'd have to wait _forever _to see my new treasure!!

A little chuckle escaped her. "You love him deeply, this I can clearly see. It is what I want for Carlos. It is what he deserves--to be happy. This is good."

"You _do_ speak English," I challenged. "Mateo said--"

"My grand-nephew--like the rest of my family--does not know my little secret. I trust you with it, Estefanía, as Carlos has trusted you with his heart. I believe you are worthy of his trust, and thus of mine. Do not let anyone--especially my son--see that you have this. He will not understand, I assure you."

I slipped the envelope into my bag; quickly pulling out my business card and handing it to her. I'd printed my new home address and phone number on the reverse of the card. Now she had both my home and my business addresses, as well as my home phone number, my cell number and my work number.

"I give you my word, I'll keep your secret," I promised. "I have a new address--"

"The townhouse in Bel Aire Estates," she smiled serenely, tucking the business card into her wallet. "I know. It is a lovely place, I wish you much happiness there."

"You already knew about that?"

This woman was _so_ not the stereotypical little old Cuban woman I'd expected. She was a woman of unfathomable depths.

"You would be surprised at what I know, querida niña," she said softly, "I watch and learn, always. I know you saw me watching you--you have a very expressive face."

"I hoped you would be here today," I confessed. "That's why I came."

"I assumed as much. We cannot speak for long; my son will wonder why you delay in your return. And I must not be seen anywhere near you, lest I attract his attention to my activities. To meet this way, in this of all places, was risky--but I was feeling quite wicked today."

Her eyes sparkled, and I couldn't resist a smile back. I had a strong feeling that this woman had a very devilish streak in her!

"You will contact me again?" I asked hopefully.

"There will be more photos of your beloved, Estefanía," she assured me, "He has told you of me?"

"He said you've known him since he was a baby."

She smiled beatifically, "Carlos was a _beautiful _baby. He had the biggest eyes, and the most perfect of all smiles…" She seemed lost in thought, then recovered herself quickly. "Perhaps you need to see that for yourself. See how fine-looking your children will be when the day comes that God blesses you both."

I blushed at the mention of children with Carlos, then I replayed what she had just said. "You're going to give me one of Carlos' baby pictures??" _Omigod! I can't wait to see him as a little baby! I'll bet he was totally adorable! _

Rosa chuckled again, "He still _is_, is he not? So much charm! Carlos is--how do they say?--_the whole package_. Yes?"

"Yes," I sighed, just thinking about him, "_Definitely _yes. Carlos is the most exceptional man in the world. There is no one who can match him--no one who can even come close."

She reached out and patted my arm gently, "Indeed! You are just the woman I would have chosen for him, Estefanía. Loving. Beautiful. Smart. Loyal. Hard-working. Generous. All these things I have seen for myself or have heard about you. You are a good girl."

_If you only knew how we met, you might change your mind! What went on in that hotel--and the Porsche--was anything but the behavior of a good girl!_

Rosa laughed suddenly, a rich earthy laugh that stunned me, "Do you always think out loud, querida niña? Carlos must find that enchanting! Do not worry about me changing my mind about you, Estefanía. I as a woman understand these things: Carlos is like cat-nip, yes? You are still a good girl. But you must go now! My son will be knocking at the door soon in concern."

I nodded, then moved toward the door. She stepped away to free my path, and I suddenly realized that she'd been cleverly blocking anyone from entering the rest room by standing against the door! _This is a woman who should never be underestimated!_

"Oh, but you see--I _am_, and frequently. That's how I can keep my little secret, Estefanía."

Oh, crap! I'd spoken out loud again! I needed to break myself of that habit somehow before it got me into big trouble. Wait! Talking out loud got me Carlos! He's anything _but_ trouble…

"Thank you for the new photo of Carlos," I gave her a warm smile, "I will hide them, but I will treasure them always." The already-framed photo of Carlos she'd given me the last time would need to be hidden away in my memory box, especially since Papa would now be visiting to give me cooking lessons. But I would have the photos within easy reach, where I could enjoy them--and the letters from Carlos and Rosa--frequently.

"I know you will, Estefanía," she gestured for me to get going, "You will hear from me again soon, I hope. Now---_go_!"

I hustled back to the table, where I found Papa and Grandma Mazur trying to decide if one of them needed to come to my aid. I brushed off their concern, saying that I was so excited from the move to the townhouse and the _Babe! _campaign, that I was just---well--I shrugged, trying to give them the general idea.

Papa looked at me in real concern, "This dreadful stomach virus is still going around, Estefanía! Alejandro and his family have had it; your friend's daughter was struck down with it during your party. Perhaps you need to see a doctor, just to be cautious?"

"I'm fine, Papa," I assured him, smiling, "And to prove it, I'm going to dig into that delicious food and make it all disappear!"

Papa stepped aside as the server appeared with our appetizers, and over his shoulder I noticed a determined Rosa making a discreet exit from the restaurant. I got a flutter of excitement in my tummy knowing I had another unknown photo of Carlos--and perhaps another letter?--waiting for me in my purse. I couldn't get the meal over quickly enough so I could tear open the envelope and find out with what new treasure Rosa had presented me!

I didn't even wait until I got home to unlock the mystery: I was too impatient! I dropped Grandma Mazur and Wilbur off at their new condo, pulled around the block out of sight, and parked the car. In seconds, I had the envelope open and I gave a loud cry of surprise--and delight--at the photo hidden within.

Carlos was in his late teens, I guessed--and the whole bad boy vibe just radiated off him in smolderingly powerful waves! He leaned against a wall, eyes locked on the camera, the thumb of his right hand brushing his full lip, which was tipped up in what had to be the most '_yeah, I da man_' smirk I'd ever seen. He was cat-nip, all right: he was dressed all in black, his shirt pulled open to reveal a toned mocha-latte colored chest that had me remembering what a perfectly splendiferous body he had. Much more-so now than even then, thanks to the rigorous training he'd received in Delta Force.

He was wearing a black leather jacket, and black pants; and his almost black hair was short and spiked. And his eyes--God, his eyes! They pierced right into my soul, and I ached for him more than ever. My heart--and my doodah--were doing a happy dance just thinking about the fact that this man was all _mine. _And that one day he'd be not only my lover, but also my husband, and the father of my children. _April 6, 2010. _So far in the future--but so bearable with precious gifts like this coming my way!

She'd included another letter, and I unfolded it eagerly.

_My dear Estefanía-_

_I have been waiting for the perfect opportunity for us to meet face to face, and to begin what I pray will be a close friendship between us. That you are reading this now tells me that we have finally met. Of this I am glad. You can not imagine how much I have looked forward to meeting the special woman who has finally stolen Carlos' heart! _

_I saw you both that night at Rosa's--earlier in the evening--when you two were dancing as if you were one, exchanging tender smiles and soft laughter. It made me happier than I can possibly tell you to see that you two have found true love. I know you will both hold on to it; cherish it, and each other, for every day that you draw breath. Never take it for granted, Estefanía: it is a true gift from God. One that does not come to everyone, sadly._

_I do not take you for a fool, querida niña: I know that you will by this time have figured out who it is who has sent you the photo of your handsome young man. And I know that by including a letter with it, I have revealed my secret to you alone: yes, I speak English. No, no one in my family has any idea._

_I hope that you do not think badly of me for asking you to keep my secret from my son, and indeed all of my family. But I think you above all will understand why I feel the need to do so: I have been all my life the square peg in the round hole. I wanted an education, I wanted a career, I longed to find a man who loved me as an equal and not as a possession. Alas, for me, given my family circumstances, that was not to be. _

_I married a good man, but he was not 'the' man; I tell you this woman-to-woman. As was expected of me, I gave up my dreams and was a dutiful wife and a loving mother for years. My late husband decreed that only our native tongue be spoken in our home; then he locked me away inside it so that I had no life that was not controlled by him. My son is much like his father, set in his chauvinistic ways and determined to cosset and protect his old mother from the world--not realizing that in doing so he smothers me. In his view, I am only his mother, grandmother to his children; I am not Rosa, the woman. Never Rosa, the woman._

_So I learned English in secret, watching television and soaking up knowledge like a sponge. And I kept my secret--because it gives me the edge I need in order to survive in my family. Without that edge, I would not know anything that my son did not wish me to know. What a dreary unexciting life that would be, do you not agree? _

_Do not, I pray you, think harshly of my son. He is a well-meaning man, but as I said, set in his late father's old-school way of thinking. Were he to know my secret--you can imagine the results, I think? I would not be able to put a foot outside the house without some interference from him. This I could not tolerate!_

_Enough of my story--I tell you this only so that you understand that it is no mere whim or bizarre fancy of mine that you keep my secret. I trust you understand; I trust that you will keep my secret--now our secret--until and unless I release you from it._

_I hear you asking impatiently: 'When was this photo taken? Tell me of my Carlos!' Indeed, I will, querida niña!_

_Carlos was 17 in this photo: running wild nightly, with a fast crowd that was up to no good. He chafed at the strict rules his inflexible family laid down for him. The more that they ordered him to cut himself off from these no-good friends of his, the more determined he was to embrace the dark side. He is a stubborn one. He did what he wanted, always. Not what he was told--never what he was told! _

_Yes, Carlos was a rebellious child, never allowing his independence to be stolen from him. Given what I have told you of my background, you understand, I think, why I am so fond of him. That and his charm: Carlos has more charm to him than should be permitted in any one man, yes? He can be the very devil sometimes. But underneath it all, he has a strong sense of honor and decency. He is truly a good man. That is what made him decide to pull his life together and join the Army; to leave his crowd of hellions before they destroyed him._

_I tell you this: there were many girls over the years, too many to count. But not one--not one--meant anything special to Carlos. Until you, Estefanía. You are the only one who has had Carlos' heart. This heart he has guarded fiercely all his life. For him to give it to you tells me that you are truly an exceptional woman. _

_This I have begun to see for myself, as I have watched you make your dreams a reality and create a life for yourself that you can be proud of. Never sacrifice your independence for anyone, querida niña! Take advice from an old woman who has done so, and now struggles to take it back. Carlos--unlike my late husband--wants a woman to be his partner. He will nourish your spirit, because he understands what it means to need freedom. You two are well matched, this I know._

_I will contact you again when I can. And I hope--as I said--that our friendship will grow as we wait for your beloved to come home to you, as we both know he will._

_With all fondness, your new friend,_

_Rosa _

I wiped tears from my eyes, moved by both her words and her sad history that had touched my heart. After another long look at Carlos' handsome face, I tucked the envelope safely into my handbag. It was getting later in the afternoon: it was Saturday and I had grocery shopping to do before I could get home and unwind. Pulling out into traffic, I motored out of the Burg and towards my new life.

Two hours or so later, I was finishing up unpacking my groceries in my spacious new kitchen, and looking forward to the day when I would feel completely at ease in this room. Papa was scheduled to come over Monday for our first cooking lesson, and I would be an eager pupil. Rex was enjoying his new surroundings, and I popped a few grapes into his hamster haven so he could celebrate with me. I treated myself to a slice of cheesecake--courtesy of my latest Dipaolo Bros. delivery. I'd notified both the bakery and the florist of my new address, and I was feeling closer to Carlos than ever, thanks to my earlier encounter with Rosa.

I was just about to pull out the envelope and re-read her letter--and moon over Carlos' photo again--when I heard the doorbell sound. Pushing my unruly hair from my eyes, I made quickly for the door. _Could it possibly be Rosa?_

Pulling open the door, I was startled to see Mateo standing there. We exchanged warm greetings, and I ushered him inside welcomingly. He'd seen the townhouse the night of the after-launch party, so there was no need for a tour.

"Sorry to turn up without warning, Steph, but in truth I was looking forward to making this delivery. And I thought it best to surprise you with it." He gave a mysterious smile.

"Delivery?" I asked, completely befuddled. "You have something for me?" I looked at him, seeing nothing in his hands.

"I sure do. Call it a Housewarming gift. Or an early Christmas present. Or both. But I come bearing gifts from Carlos." He opened his jacket, and pulled out a small wrapped package.

"OMIGOD! Another charm?" I exclaimed, my eyes lighting up. This was beyond fabulous!

"Yeah--and more," he laughed, "_Much_ more."

He handed me a box that I tore into with such gusto that he grinned ear to ear. I recognized the same midnight blue velvet box that the Wonder Woman and Superman charms had come in. It was _definitely_ another charm for my bracelet! When I popped the lid open, my face dissolved into a goofy grin. "It's the Porsche! The one Carlos rented that Sunday when we went to Peddler's Village, and then later to _Rosa's_!" I thought of what we'd done in the front seat after our dinner, blushing, and then ran my finger over the white gold charm. "It's even the right color! This is so beautiful! Thank you for delivering it, Mateo! Carlos continues to outdo himself!"

"It was actually supposed to be your Christmas charm," Mateo admitted, "But that won't work out anymore, because this was all part of one large package. This comes with it." He handed me a slightly larger box, and I wasted no time in opening it, as well.

It was a key chain, with a silver die cast metal Porsche attached to it.

"Oh that's so cute!" I exclaimed, examining it closely. I'd never seen anything like it! "It's like a little model car! I can't drive it, but I can look at it and remember that Sunday and relive the special memories! How clever!"

Mateo laughed, "Well, it's more clever than you know: for the next part of the gift you have to come outside."

Confused, I allowed Mateo to lead me carefully out the front door, my eyes closed, as he'd requested. I had no idea what to expect. He led me down the few steps, then down the walkway, where he then turned me around and placed me in the direction he wanted me to face.

"Hold out your hand," he ordered. "Keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them."

"Bossy, aren't you?" I complied, feeling completely discombobulated.

He laughed quietly, "Not _my _orders, Steph: they're _Carlos'_. I'm following them to the letter. Here, take this."

Something cold and metallic was pressed into my palm, and my fingers reflexively closed around it. I didn't have time to wonder what the object was, because just then Mateo told me to open my eyes. When I did, I was staring down at another Porsche key chain, this time with keys attached.

I knew then what would await my eyes when I looked up and over to the driveway. The crazy image of that commercial came into my brain: you know, the one where the husband gives his wife a box of tissues, then a paper bag, then opens the door and she sees a new car in their driveway, with a big red bow on it. She promptly cries, hyperventilates, and then passes out. I was kinda hoping Mateo had brought a paper bag too…….

I was literally speechless for a few minutes, looking at the silver Porsche 911 Carerra that now sat proudly in my driveway. The car exactly like the dream car Carlos had rented that magical Sunday when we'd driven to Peddler's Village, then gone to the hotel and made love for hours, then he'd taken me to Rosa's for the most romantic evening of my life. It was _mine_! I opened my mouth, but words just didn't come out.

Mateo was enjoying himself tremendously, "Not like you to have nothing to say, Steph. I guess Carlos picked the right Christmas present, huh? The man was on a real mission: he wanted to top all of his other gifts with this big one for Christmas….of course, things didn't work out that way, and you got it early."

Memories flooded my mind of Carlos questioning me about his rental car: _Did I like the color? Did I prefer another color? Did I want to drive it myself? _I knew the answer already, but as I ran over to the Porsche the words tumbled out of my mouth, "He planned it that day, didn't he? Omigod! It's beautiful! I love it!" I stroked it lovingly, walking around it, examining every square inch of my new ride.

"He made up his mind to do this when he saw your reaction to the rental car," Mateo admitted, "He called me and told me he wanted you to have a Porsche 911 Carerra for Christmas--a silver one, loaded with everything--and top rate insurance, on his dime. Your papers, all of them, are in the car on the passenger's seat. He'd already picked out the Porsche charm the day before, and he decided you'd get that first, then the special key chain, then this car--presented according to his own script. Carlos is very bossy, in case you didn't know. I complied."

"You didn't even know me then: you must have thought he was completely out of his mind. Did you try to talk him out of it?" I asked, watching his face.

_Bingo!_

"I might have expressed some reservations about his grand plan," Mateo admitted, guiltily. "But he was determined. Like I said: a man on a mission. He knew what he wanted, and I gave him my word I'd do it. You were supposed to get the car earlier than Christmas, if need be. When you mentioned at the launch party that your car died on Halloween, I placed the order with the dealership. You almost got it then. But you decided to rent a car for a couple of weeks until the escrow closed, so I waited until today--"

"He is _amazing_," I opened the car, climbing behind the wheel. "The most romantic man in the world!"

Mateo laughed, "Not before you, he wasn't. I didn't recognize the guy that weekend. He had me drive him to the jewelers, then the florist, then the bakery. He wrote a ton of notes, set them in order, and made me promise to do the whole dog and pony show exactly--and I mean _exactly_--as he'd scripted it. Yep--Carlos planned this whole thing to the letter. He always does."

"How were you supposed to know if my car died before Christmas? We hadn't even met! Were you just going to ring my doorbell one day and say, 'hi, you don't know me from a hole in the wall, but Carlos Manoso bought you a car, look outside'?"

He laughed, "Something like that. I asked him the very same question: I wasn't too happy about it, I can tell you that."

"What was his answer?" _Damn, this really had me curious!_

"He said he trusted me to carry out his wishes--and that pretty much assured that I would, no matter how crazy they seemed to me at the time. Carlos has always been there for me whenever I needed him. He knew that I'd do whatever I could to put his mind at rest before he left. And I did."

I've learned to trust my spidey sense--and whether it was the tone of his voice, or the facts not coming together just right, I don't know. But I went with my gut, blurting out, "You weren't in _Rosa's_ by mere chance that night, were you? _He _asked you to be there. To meet me."

His face froze, and I knew I'd scored a bulls-eye.

Of course Mateo hadn't randomly run into us--he'd just told me that Carlos planned this whole thing with a military-like precision! For Carlos to expect Mateo to deliver the charms--and especially the car (and keep track of the condition of my POS Nova to do it)--he'd have to prepare the way somehow. He'd have to ensure that I knew that Mateo was a trusted friend of his.

Mateo looked at me, eyes wary. "Why would you say that?"

"Because I'm not stupid." I explained my reasoning, and had the satisfaction of watching Mateo squirm. "So? Are you going to deny I'm right?"

"What would be the point?" he sighed, "Are you angry?"

"What would be the point?" I repeated. "Carlos did what he thought was best. He was trying to keep things a big surprise, trying to set things up so I'd be constantly reminded of how much he loves me. He had no choice but to do what he needed to do to ensure that happened. No, I'm not angry. I trust Carlos. I always have, strangely enough. From the very beginning, he's never lied to me."

"He loves you very much, Steph. He wanted me to promise to look out for you if you needed help. Any kind of help. I wasn't exactly sure how it was going to work--me trying to monitor the status of your car--but like I said, Carlos asked. And it was very important to him to have you cared for. To know that you were safe and well. So I agreed."

I smiled, "Bet you were surprised when I called to ask you to be my attorney." I was certain that Carlos had never seen _that_ coming, with his well-planned scenario!

"Stunned. Am I still?" He looked unsure.

"What? Still my attorney, you mean? Why _wouldn't _you be? I told you: _I trust Carlos. _Implicitly. I'm not angry. Not at him and certainly not at you. You've been a good friend, to both of us." I climbed out of the car, the papers in my hand. "Do you have a letter for me? I'm _sure_ there's a letter! Hand it over!!"

"I give you the keys to a Porsche and it's not enough for you? You want a _letter_ too? What about I give you the letter and take the Porsche back?" he teased.

"I love the car, but I'd rather have Carlos' letter. I miss him so much, Mateo. You have no idea."

"I miss him too," he said quietly, taking out an envelope from the inside of his jacket. "You know--when he first told me about you two--I wasn't 100% on board with it. But when I met you that night--when you read that love contract to him--and I saw his face--that was it. I knew you were the woman he's been waiting his whole life to find. So from then on, I've been completely on your side. Just so you know."

"Thank you," I said, softly, taking the letter from him. "You don't have to worry, Mateo: I love Carlos like I've never loved anyone before or will ever love anyone again. He's IT for me. That's why he _has _to come back. And he will, he has to….."

There was a long moment of silence, while we both processed what life would be like if Carlos was among that 90% of mission fatalities. I wouldn't survive his loss--and I knew it. I think Mateo knew it, too.

He put his arm around me and gave me a reassuring hug, "Carlos will make it back, Steph. You've given him too much to live for, for it to be any other way."

"He's Superman, right?" I caressed his letter, and noticed my charm bracelet shining in the November sun: Superman and Wonder Woman together, where they belonged. _Of course Carlos would return! _My spirit felt lighter: I had gotten two letters today. One from Rosa. One from Carlos. And a Porsche.

My cup overflowed.

I would save the letter from Carlos to read while I was alone. I was too emotional to read it while Mateo was there, after all. Instead, we decided that I'd return the rental car now, and he'd follow me in the Porsche. Then I'd drop him off at the dealership, where he'd left his car when he'd picked up my gift.

By the time I'd accomplished that task, I was trembling with excitement! Driving the car was a phenomenal high, but that wasn't what had me so thrilled. No: what I was desperately looking forward to was curling up in my bed, my photos of Carlos scattered around me, while I read the newest letter from the man I loved!

I raced into the house, tossed my coat carelessly on the sofa, and ran for my bedroom. In minutes, my hands were opening the letter to see Carlos' now-familiar handwriting. I took a deep breath of anticipation, and began to read:

_Dearest Babe,_

_It's me again--the man who loves you more than you can ever possibly imagine. Merry Christmas, Wonder Woman! Or--if it's sooner--then good riddance to that ugly eye-sore you called a car. You have no idea how humiliating it was for me to ride to McDonald's in that pathetic piece of junk. Bad asses everywhere felt my pain, I promise you!_

_I decided then and there that you needed a new set of wheels more deserving of your beauty, both inside and out. You were meant to drive a hot, sexy Porsche, Babe--and I want you to think of our Sunday together every time you climb behind the wheel. And every time that charm jingles on your bracelet, I want you to remember that I love you. Always and forever, Babe. You're everything to me. Everything. _

_I never in a million years expected to feel this way; but then, I never in a million years could have expected you to come crashing into my life. Literally. From the moment I first saw you in that hotel bar, I knew you were special. And with every moment we've shared together, I've learned more and more just how truly remarkable a woman you are._

_I'm crazy about you, Stephanie Plum. Head over heels, unconditionally, totally, absolutely and wildly to the core of my soul in love with you. _

_And I miss you already, even though when I'm actually writing this letter, we haven't been apart for long at all: I'm writing this in the hotel room 4 floors above you, grabbing a few moments as I pack up my belongings to head down to your room. Our room. Where we've made so many indescribably miraculous memories. Where you've made me the happiest man in the world. Where you continue to give me more joy and more laughter and more love than I've ever had in my life. Not to mention truly phenomenally mind-blowing sex. Which I can't wait for more of, the second I get this letter in the mail to the friend who's promised to handle things for me. _

_But I have to remind myself that you might not get this letter until Christmas, so I'll say it again: I love you, Babe. And I'm counting the days until April 6, 2010, when I can sweep you off your feet and take you to bed for at least a week as we begin our future together. God, Babe, I can't wait to come home to you! To make you my wife, as I've already made you my woman. And to be your husband, as well as your lover._

_Not a day will go by that I won't think of you, and miss you, and love you._

_Enjoy your Porsche, Wonder Woman! And have a very Merry Christmas._

_Love always,_

_Your Superman,_

_Carlos_

I was in tears by the time I got to the end of his letter. And after liberal use of the box of tissues I kept by my bed, I read it over a dozen more times. Carlos had poured his heart into this letter, and it was the greatest gift he could ever have given me. Don't get me wrong: I loved the Porsche. But if all he'd given me for Christmas had been this letter, I would have considered myself blessed beyond belief.

I was a woman truly, madly, deeply in love. And my man felt the same way about me. How mind-blowing was that?

The phone rang, startling me. I picked it up, and discovered Tina on the other end. She'd called to ask if I wanted her to stop over with Chinese take-out to celebrate my first night in my new home. I grinned. Then I told her to come ahead.

I had one hell of a surprise in store for her!

_A/N: Go to the TNH Photo Album (link on My Profile page) to check out the photo of young sexy Carlos, Abuela Rosa, the Porsche keychairns and the Porsche itself. _


	69. Chapter 69

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. Hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 69 

_Abuela Rosa's POV_

I have been a very busy woman in the last few weeks. So busy that even my restaurant-obsessed son Ricardo has noticed the changes in my activities of late--and that is a two-edged sword. On one hand, it makes me up my game! I feel a heightened sense of excitement, and I know I am walking on the edge. I get more creative than ever because of it. My schemes are beyond brilliant, if I do say so myself! I am a very wicked wicked old woman, and I'm having the time of my life behaving so. On the other hand, getting about without discovery is harder to do now: sometimes I just want to kick my nosy son in the shins and tell him to stay out of my business. But I can't. So instead, I smile charmingly to his face and sneak around behind his back. I'm doing this for my Carlito and his beloved, after all. It is worth any price to ensure their happiness!

My son Ricardo continues to play this ridiculous charade with Stephanie. 'Call me _Papa_,' indeed! How _ridiculous_! Carlito will be furious with his father when he returns to discover that he has continued this ruse, and used it to insinuate himself so deeply into Stephanie's life.

I have heard the men arguing several times about the wisdom of continuing that plan of his: Lucia, Mateo's level-headed wife, has told all of the men flat-out that they are wrong to behave this way. That they are risking discovery, and that they will anger both Stephanie and Carlito if they continue this deception. But, except for poor Alejandro, no one is listening.

Alejandro has tried reasoning with his stubborn father several times, only to be shot down firmly and completely. My foolish son is quite determined to stay a part of Stephanie's life, and by doing so, to stay a part of Carlito's as well. Alejandro never has been strong; he bows to his father's wishes in this, as in all else. I am beyond frustrated with my elder grandson: he should stand up for himself against his strong-willed father, but he will not. I think he is unable to do so, and it disappoints me enormously. Carlito would never allow himself to be bullied the way Alejandro does. That is one of the many reasons I admire Carlito so much!

I have used the information I gained that interesting afternoon at _Rosa's_ to learn even more about Stephanie Plum: that Monday, I went to the library, and discovered through asking questions that 'the Burg' is short for _Chambersburg_, a part of Trenton. It was not as easy as that, mind you: there are many 'Burgs' in New Jersey, after all. I had to sit for hours looking through phone directories to find if that particular 'Burg' had a _Stephanie Plum _or an _S. Plum _listed. And if a _Mazur_ was listed as well. I knew her mother's name was Ellen, but I did not know her father's name. How frustrating!

It was very slow and tedious going, it took most of the afternoon before I finally found the right place; and the right family. First I found a phone number and an address for a Stephanie Plum. Then I found an Edna Mazur who lived at the same address as a Frank Plum. _Eureka! _I knew for sure I had the right 'Burg' when I checked and found the name and number of a Joseph Morelli, as well. The 'yummy cupcake' fool. Oh, yes. I had the right place all right: _Chambersburg! _And now I had the phone numbers and the addresses I needed.

I could not resist being very naughty with that phone number for Joseph Morelli. I waited until 3am, I used an alarm clock to wake myself up, and I called his number! I could tell that I'd awakened him from a sound sleep; it made me delighted! What did I say, you ask? What else? I told him: '_Cupcakes are not yummy if they belong to someone else_.' Then I hung up on him. Fool! He would have no way to trace my call: I had picked up a 'throw away' phone at a local convenience store. It would come in useful, I was sure. I watch all of the crime shows, this much I know! I planned a few calls to Ellen Plum, that witch, as well. No one insults my Carlito and escapes Rosa Manoso's ire!

My next step was to locate Stephanie's partner, Dawson Books. He was listed in the phone book, as was his business. I copied down the address, and decided I needed to go and investigate what the building looked like, at least from the outside. I would do what detectives called 'surveillance'. Then one day I would see what the building looked like inside, perhaps get a glimpse of Stephanie at work. So? I was curious! You would be too, were you in my position!

I then asked my granddaughter Celia's eldest, Tomas, about _You Tube_. I knew he would know these kind of things! He explained it to me, and I was determined to see Stephanie's video for myself. But I was too smart to ask Tomas to loan me his laptop. No, that would never do! He was nosy, like his mother: he'd want to know what I was up to. And I did not trust that he wouldn't be able to tell which site I'd visited and which video I'd watched. So instead, I went back to the library the next day and watched the video there. I was hugely entertained! The more I learned of Carlito's woman, the more I liked her fire and her imagination.

The newspapers at the library were an amazing source of information on the EE Martin FBI raid; I discovered that Stephanie herself played a small role in the excitement by assisting the FBI in identifying when one of the crooked men made an appearance in the building! How thrilling that must have been for her! I was quite envious that I had missed it first-hand. It was like a crime show or a film, except it was _real_! And the bad guys had gotten caught and were now going to jail. Just as it should be.

Stephanie, the dear girl, was shooting to the top, it seemed! Everywhere I turned, there was a news report or an interview or a magazine or even a commercial for her new business enterprise with Dawson Books. She was taking the world by storm, said the television announcers. I was enraptured by her success, and started buying the fashion magazines so I could keep up with her new company's advertising campaign.

Stephanie herself was the fashion model, although technically she wasn't a model, I suppose, because she wasn't wearing the lingerie. _Thank God! _I know Carlito would have been quite upset to come home and see racy ads with his woman in her unmentionables! But Stephanie kept her clothes on. And I kept buying the magazines, and carefully tearing out the ads and saving them. In fact, I secretly started my own scrapbook of the ads and the press clippings. I knew Carlito would one day want to see them all!

This brought me to my next big plan: this one I thought about long and hard before I put it into practice. I needed a way to get to Chambersburg to do some detecting, and I needed a trusted driver to get me there. That stick in the mud Beatrice Alvarez was good for a ride to _Rosa's _whenever I needed it, she would always welcome a free meal, but I could not think of any excuse to use to get her to drive me to Chambersburg. Nor did I want to risk asking my girlfriends Nina Valdez or Maria Lecuona to do so. They would ask questions: and I did not want to give any answers. So I needed to be quite creative. And I was!

Beatrice has a young grandson, Pedro, who is quite a sweet young man. Very studious and quiet, not at all the hell-raiser my Carlito was at that age. Pedro has just turned 18, and money in the family is very tight, so he can't afford the car he so desperately wants. That is where _I _came in! I approached Beatrice to discover if Pedro's family would object to my helping him (and them) out by buying him a reliable car. Nothing fancy, you understand: just a dependable little car to get him from home to school and around town to do the things he needs to do.

The deal I offered was this: I needed, I said, a safe and reliable way to get around town to do my errands. At my age, and not speaking English, I said, I did not want to depend on taxicabs and buses, nor did I wish to be a burden on my friends or family. I wanted Pedro to agree to take me around where I needed to go, in exchange for my gifting him with the car, subject to his family's rules on his use of it.

Everyone was thrilled, and so the deal was made. The car was purchased, and Pedro was delighted to put himself at my disposal in order to have his precious car to himself!

It was an ingenious plan, was it not? It was truly the best idea I'd ever come up with. I'd never have risked it if Pedro were anything at all like my Carlito at that age--I'm no fool after all--but Pedro was as meek and quiet a young man as ever I did meet. He was beyond thrilled to have his own car, and whenever I called him for a ride, he was more than willing to hustle over and take me anywhere I wanted to go. Perhaps it was naughty of me, but in no time, I'd managed to win his loyalty and his silence with some extra 'walking around money' for certain small errands I asked him to do for me, and not mention to Beatrice or anyone else.

The first chore I gave him was to deliver a manila envelope to Stephanie Plum's apartment; an envelope that contained a photo of young Carlito and a letter from me to Stephanie. I wanted her to have it for her big day, the launch party for her new business venture with Dawson Books! I knew she would treasure it; I also knew that she was especially going to be pleased with the timing of the delivery. She'd be thinking of her Carlos on that day, above all others, and to have something of his past (a past she knew little to nothing about) would thrill her to no end. So I composed my letter carefully, and chose one of my favorite photos of Carlito to have enlarged at the drug store, and tucked it into an envelope with her address printed plainly on it. Then I charged Pedro with the task of ringing her doorbell and delivering it without being seen. The boy did well, and I knew I could continue to make good use of him in future.

I had taken a big chance by writing the letter: Stephanie was no fool, I suspected she would have suspicions that I had been the one responsible. I could perhaps have outed my big secret by writing the letter in flawless English. But I trusted her, and asked for her silence. I thought she was clever enough to realize that more photos of Carlito would be forthcoming if she held her tongue. And I was right: she said nothing.

How did I know? Because I was careful to monitor my son's reactions. If she had mentioned anything to Mateo, he would immediately report it to Ricardo. He did not. Nor did Alejandro--not that I would have expected Stephanie to say anything to Alejandro, mind you. No. I suspected if she did tell anyone about the photos, and question who had sent them, she would choose Mateo or Ricardo. She chose neither. I was pleased with my reading of her character: she had kept my trust, and I would reward that in the future.

My next plan was even more ingenious than the others. I had Pedro now: I was no longer confined to Newark. All of the publicity for the launch party held at Bel Aire Estates had me more than curious to see it for myself. I'd overheard from Mateo and Ricardo's conversations that Stephanie had purchased a townhouse there. Mateo even mentioned to my son the name of the sales consultant he'd dealt with on Stephanie's behalf. I took careful note of the name Eric Marshall, and I had young Pedro drive me over to Bel Aire Estates the day after the launch party took place.

I presented myself to Eric Marshall at the Sales Office as a potential buyer of one of his luxurious townhouses. The man couldn't have been more thrilled to take me on a grand tour of the place! I'd said that I'd heard that well-known lingerie designer Stephanie Plum had bought a townhouse there, and I got him talking. The man does love to talk, for sure! Talked my poor ears off. I learned that Stephanie had purchased the Coronado model home, and that she'd gotten a great deal with incentives. Marshall told me that there were 2 other Coronados currently being built, that would be ready in April 2009. It didn't take much effort on my part to get him to show me the inside of Stephanie's townhouse, it seems she'd signed an agreement that allowed tours of this sort for potential buyers of the other 2 Coronados, at least until her escrow went through, and so I found myself walking around happily envisioning the place where Stephanie would live and would most probably begin her life with my Carlito upon his return.

I am _not _nosy! I am…_detecting_. For Carlito's own good. There _is_ a difference. I learned from the very chatty Mr. Marshall that Stephanie had purchased the model 'as is' completely furnished, and if I had cared to, I assure you, I would have been able to get the price she paid out of him. But I'm _not_ nosy, I tell you. I settled instead for the tour, and her move-in date. Then I broke the poor man's heart by declaring that I couldn't wait until April 2009 to buy, and that I needed to find another house sooner. I honestly thought he would cry.

Then it was on to the next step of my plan: trying to determine the right time and place to approach Stephanie face-to-face for what I hoped would be the first of many girl talks!

I called upon Pedro again, and my young chauffeur obediently drove me to the Books/Plum Designs building in Newark, where I did the necessary surveillance. I walked the length of the building, and taking careful note of the dress of the people who entered and left the business. I planned to dress to blend in the next time, and actually make a visit inside so that, perhaps, I could see Stephanie's office for myself! I had thoughts of writing another letter, tucking in another photo, and dropping it inside for delivery to Stephanie herself. Perhaps I had crossed the line a bit by then, I don't know. I was swept up in the excitement of being an undercover detective! I was taken by surprise when Stephanie exited the building unexpectedly, and I had to quickly pop inside the car and order Pedro to hit the gas before we were caught red-handed!

But the excitement did wonders for me, I confess! I was enjoying myself enormously!

Next I had Pedro drive me to Chambersburg…no, let me call it what Stephanie herself does: _the Burg_! I took a leisurely drive by the Plum house, where I barely, just barely, restrained myself from leaving a _very _naughty note in Ellen Plum's mailbox. But I'm a lady, not a bitch.

So instead, I had Pedro drive me to the next address on my list: Joseph Morelli's house. Tiny little nondescript shoebox that it was. I left a most impolite note in _his_ box, though: he was making a direct move on my Carlito's woman, after all. This was _war_! I told him in no uncertain terms that Stephanie Plum was taken by a much better man than he could ever dream of being. And that he needed to stop annoying her with his juvenile '_cupcakes are yummy_' nonsense before her man had him dealt with most expeditiously.

I suspect Carlito would be furious with me, were he to discover I had used his name so recklessly. But I lost my temper. There, I admitted it. Still, I'm happy I stepped up and did what I did. Let Mr. Cupcake look over his shoulder now. Let him wonder who was watching him. Perhaps he'd let Stephanie alone. If not? Well, I had his address and his phone number. And I had a very good imagination. I would do whatever needed to be done to protect my absent Carlito's interests.

While we were there, I caught a glimpse of someone I strongly suspected was Stephanie's grandmother Edna: a blue-haired spry septuagenarian who wore the most atrocious clothes I'd ever seen: neon pink spandex bicycle shorts with a lime green tube top that revealed more pasty chicken skin than anyone should have to see. She came bouncing out of the Plum house and into a waiting taxi just as Pedro and I passed by. On a whim, I had Pedro '_follow that cab!_' I'd always wanted to say that to someone, after all! We left her at the Clip n'Curl, which featured a large poster of Stephanie in their shop window. I wondered if all the clients of the beauty salon were as similarly attired as Edna Mazur: I hoped not, for the sake of their men!

We were just making one last sweep of the Burg when I spotted Stephanie herself coming out of her apartment building and climbing into her wreck of a car to go out. Curious, I had Pedro follow her, as well. We ended up at an Italian sandwich shop named Pino's, and unhappily I had to get out of the car while Pedro drove around the block: it was a very popular spot, and there was no parking to be had anywhere! I again was taken by surprise when Stephanie emerged with her order in hand; and she caught another glimpse of me before I was able to duck into the alley between a dry cleaners and a hardware store. I stayed out of sight until Pedro drove by slowly, and I was finally able to run to the car and make my getaway!

All in all, I was having a wonderful time playing detective! My, but was this exciting! Just like on television! I could see that I was attracting far too much attention from my family with my recent comings and goings; but in truth, I was enjoying myself far too much to put a halt to things. However, Ricardo was starting to look at me more intently, and so I suspect that I will need to be more careful in future, lest he discover what I am up to and do his best to put a stop to it.

I'd written another letter to Stephanie, and included another photo of Carlito; I promised myself that I would follow her and finally make face-to-face contact with her today, no matter how I had to accomplish it! I had a strong feeling that she herself was waiting for me to make such a move. That was proven to be the case when an old friend of mine, Juan Diaz, who'd worked at _Rosa's_ for almost 25 years, called me (as I'd requested) to report that Stephanie Plum had made a reservation for lunch today, for a party of three. Juan was my secret weapon at _Rosa's_: loyal to me in every way. My eyes and ears, you could say. I considered the risk factor…Ricardo would have, as they say, 'a cow' if he saw me there with Stephanie, but I decided the risk only made the game more exciting. And I was feeling quite wicked. So I called my dutiful Pedro, and we drove to _Rosa's _in time for me to get into position and overhear the conversation at Stephanie's table.

I'd ducked behind a palm tree, and thus I missed nothing that went on! My idiot son was now planning to give cooking lessons to Stephanie on Monday nights, at her new town home. What he hoped to get from that, I have no clue. Teresa, his wife, would not be happy when she found he was sneaking around on the only night he has off from work. But although _I _could clearly see the problems looming ahead for my son, _he_ could not. He was completely fixated on his little scheme to interject himself into Stephanie's life.

I can hear you now saying, '_So are you, old lady! What is the difference between his plan and yours?_' I shall tell you: for one, _my _plan is carried out in my grandson's best interests, not my own. I do all I do for _Carlito_; Ricardo does what he does for _Ricardo_. For another, my plan is intended to soothe Carlito's woman's heart, not to meddle in her business. I must learn of her in order to find the best way to give her encouragement and support while Carlito is gone. Ricardo's plan is intended to soothe _Ricardo's _pain over his estrangement with his son. There is a big difference between our motives. Plus, my plan is intelligent and will work. My son's plan is _ridiculous_, and will blow up in his face. A mother knows these things, trust me. My son is nowhere near as smart as he thinks he is: sadly, he never was. The boy got caught every time he tried one of his foolish plans growing up. Now that he was an adult, the plans would work no better. I say this in all honesty: I know Ricardo all too well.

Stephanie's instincts told her I was watching, and the smart girl behaved brilliantly in excusing herself to seek the safety of the rest room. I followed moments after, and blocked the door as we had our long-awaited encounter.

She is no fool, that girl: Carlito chose his woman well! She greeted me in English, and thanked me prettily and in a heartfelt manner for the photo of her beloved. We had not much time to chat, but I was thoroughly impressed with her in every way. She was charming, and I found her tendency to think out loud extremely endearing. I knew Carlito would, as well! I handed her the envelope with the new photo and my letter, and assured her that I would be in touch with her again. Then I watched her hurry back to her table, and I quickly made my escape to Pedro's waiting car.

I had decided that the next photo I gave her would be a baby photo of my Carlito, I knew she would find that irresistible! He was the most precious baby in the world, my little darling! Never was there a more beautiful baby, I say this with all objectivity. And with more charm in his pinkie finger than most people have on in their entire body on their best day. Carlito could charm the birds out of the trees, if he were of the mind to! Yes, I knew that Stephanie, his Estefanía, would indeed treasure this photo above all else.

But today I had decided to make the delivery to her in a most unexpected way. Why? Ah! As to that: I am perhaps enjoying too much my detective missions, yes? I had dressed in my most fashionable outfit, and I had young Pedro deliver me to the Books/Plum Designs building itself! Having done my surveillance previously, I knew that I would fit right in. And indeed I did: I was not questioned as I sashayed into the lobby and slipped past the receptionist to check the office directory by the elevator.

Stephanie Plum, Office 203. Indeed. I swept regally into the elevator, pressed 2, and imagined how surprised dear Stephanie would be to see me so nattily attired, and so unexpectedly in her office building! Perhaps I would even get a tour of the building? I was so lost in my thoughts that I was taken by surprise when the elevator door opened. I stepped out, only to almost literally bump into the most handsome gentleman I'd ever seen.

He reached out to steady me, and his hand touched my arm. A white-hot spark shot through my entire body, stunning me in its intensity, and I looked up into the most mesmerizing blue eyes it had ever been my privilege to see on this Earth. I was tongue-tied. I felt giddy with excitement. The gentleman smiled at me, and I felt myself returning his smile.

We stood speechless for several minutes, and I became lost in the depths of his eyes. I had never felt anything like this feeling in all my life. Never.

His mouth began to move, and I found myself focusing on it, wondering, most improperly, what it would feel like to be kissed by those lips. Indeed, I confess, I was feeling very wicked. It took all my powers of concentration to pull myself from his mouth to his words. He apologized most graciously, then he introduced himself as Dawson Books.

Of course! He'd seemed familiar, somehow. But he was much more handsome than the photos I'd seen in the news. Much, dare I say it?...sexier. I opened my mouth to respond, then realized that I had to remember my secret! I did not speak English! Regretfully, I murmured, " Perdón no digo el inglés, señor." (_I'm sorry I don't speak English, sir._)

To my utter amazement, and absolute delight, he gave me the most enchanting smile and addressed me in my native tongue!

"Digo a la señora española, hermosa. Yo estaría más que contento asistirle en el descubrimiento de su camino. ¿Usted busca el estudio de modelado, son usted no?" (_I speak Spanish, beautiful lady. I would be more than pleased to assist you in finding your way. You are looking for the modeling studio, are you not?_)

Modeling studio? Good heavens! Did he think I was there to model? I opened my mouth, but nothing emerged but a soft bleet that caused me to blush most profusely. Just then I saw Stephanie Plum turn the corner, her expressive face lighting up when she saw me. Taking in the situation, knowing that I would deny speaking English, she stepped up to us, and looked over at Dawson quizzically.

"I'll take over here, Dawson." She gave me a big smile.

I smiled back at her, and pulled the manila envelope out of my handbag. Stephanie's eyes widened and she locked onto the envelope, her excitement palpable.

"Not a problem, Stephanie," Dawson surprised us both by responding. "I was just telling this lovely lady that I would be most pleased to escort her to the photo shoot." He took the envelope out of my hand, "¿Es aquel su curriculum vitae? ¡No necesario, mi querida señora! Puedo decir por sólo mirándole que usted es perfecto para nuestra campaña publicitaria. ¿Su nombre es?" (_Is that your resume? Not necessary, my dear lady! I can tell by just looking at you that you're perfect for our advertising campaign. Your name is?_)

"Rosa." I glanced over at Stephanie, mindful that I could not use my last name of Manoso. "Garciapara. Rosa Garciapara." Why I chose at this moment to use my maiden name I could not say. But I did.

Stephanie made a quick grab for the envelope, and Dawson surrendered it without protest. Then he took my arm and led me down the hall in the opposite direction from Stephanie. We locked eyes, she and I, for only a moment. And then I looked over at a smiling Dawson…and I was lost. The man could have led me _anywhere_, and I would have been more than happy to follow!

Dawson escorted me to a photography studio at the end of the hall, where a number of other women, of all ages, were milling around, filling out forms and going into hair and makeup in preparation for a photo shoot. I gathered from what was going on that there had been an open call for models, and that for some reason, he thought that I was here to pose for the _Babe! _advertising campaign. I was just about to protest, when I looked over and saw, to my astonishment, a photo of a woman I barely recognized as Stephanie's grandmother, Edna Mazur.

I'd seen her twice, once in the neon bicycle shorts, the other time in _Rosa's_ restaurant, and neither time had she looked so attractive, so glamorous! I blinked in wonder. If they could do that to Edna Mazur, what could they do to _me_? I confess: I wanted to find out! Yes, I was very wicked. I gave it only a few moments thought, then I decided to be brave!

What could my son do? _Nothing! _He would bluster, certainly: he would not like his old Mama posing for a _Babe! _lingerie ad; albeit that I was keeping my clothes on. But he could not stop me from posing for this ad. He could not interfere with my choice! I had told Stephanie in my letter that I was trying to take back my independence, after having surrendered it many years ago to my family and my late husband. What better way to declare my independence than to embrace my femininity and yet dare to do the unthinkable? I would pose as a model! I would perhaps be one of those glamorous faces in the fashion magazines I was purchasing! What would my Carlito think to see his Abuela Rosa in one of his Babe's ad campaigns? Ah, _that_ would be something to discover, yes?

I filled out the legal forms, giving my maiden name and using Beatrice Alvarez' address. Either Beatrice or Pedro would deliver to me any mail that would come for me. I had no problems with the payment…indeed, would you believe they were _paying _me to pose?...I would not have to worry about the IRS because I would not be cashing the check. I would save it, frame it, as my first and only job in my entire life! How exciting it all was!

I knew that I could keep this a secret until, as the photographer said, the Christmas week launch of this new '_Are you a Babe?_' campaign. Then, Tyler said, I would be mailed a copy of the magazine in which my ad appeared, and I would be officially a '_Babe_'! What a stunning surprise _that_ would be for my family!

The stylist busied herself with me, pronouncing me quite elegant, and the hair and makeup team worked to fulfill her vision. I sat, entranced, and watched Dawson beam happily at me as the shoot took place. He acted as my interpreter throughout the session, which finished just about 2 hours after I'd first entered the building.

Then, surprising and delighting me, Dawson invited me to lunch! I'd managed to steal a few moments to let poor Pedro know that I would be delayed for awhile, and give him a few hours to do whatever he wished while he waited for me to conclude my business at Books/Plum Designs.

I was then told to return in a week's time to receive a copy of my photo, as well as to have the opportunity to see my completed advertising poster. I was abuzz with excitement! I noted the framed posters on the walls of women of all ages and ethnic varieties. I too was to be a _Babe! _

As Dawson was escorting me out to the elevator bank on our way to our luncheon date, I noticed Stephanie peeking her head around the corner. She was overjoyed: I could only guess that the photo of Carlito and my included letter had given her great pleasure. Dawson announced to her that he was taking me to lunch, and I saw her eyes widen with surprise. Then she gave us both a radiant smile.

I turned my head as Dawson pressed the elevator button, and Stephanie mouthed 'thank you' to me. I gave her a saucy wink, and sailed onto the elevator with a confident step. I was quite pleased with myself: I had gotten an exciting job opportunity _and_ a hot date, both on the same day! I was truly a woman to be reckoned with!

Life was more than a bit exciting for this wicked woman!


	70. Chapter 70

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. Hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 70

The very last person in the world I'd expected to see at Books/Plum Designs today--or any other day, for that matter--was Rosa, my new (and more than a bit mysterious) pen-pal. We'd announced an open call for "real women" who wanted to appear in our upcoming "Are you a _Babe_?" advertising campaign, and today was the day we'd set aside to do the makeovers and the photo shoots. I'd driven my new Porsche into the office for the first time--still amazed at my good fortune and Carlos' exceptional generosity--and I'd expected to have a day that was more than a bit hectic on all counts. But I'd never anticipated Rosa's visit! How could I?

I'd been on my way to oversee the photo shoots when I'd heard Dawson's voice by the elevator bank. To my surprise, he was speaking fluent Spanish to a stylishly dressed woman with silver hair. I hadn't realized that my partner knew Spanish--it was yet another side to Dawson--and then I'd looked over curiously at his companion, and my eyes had widened. It was Rosa herself, dressed in an elegant ensemble with a black and white checked coat over a black dress, accented by red gloves.

She'd seen me, and our eyes had met. Smiling in welcome, I'd stepped up to the pair, and said, "I'll take over here, Dawson."

Rosa had smiled back, and then taken a manila envelope out of her handbag. My eyes had widened, and I'd felt my excitement building: she'd brought another photo of Carlos! Perhaps this was even the promised baby photo! It was all I could do not to pull the envelope out of her hand and tear into it! I'm not a very patient person, after all…

To my shock--and I think Rosa's, as well--Dawson had brushed aside my offer, saying, "Not a problem, Stephanie. I was just telling this lovely lady that I would be most pleased to escort her to the photo shoot." He'd taken the manila envelope out of Rosa's hand, "Is that your resume? Not necessary, my dear lady! I can tell by just looking at you that you're perfect for our advertising campaign. Your name is?"

"Rosa. Garciapara. Rosa Garciapara," had come her soft reply.

Well, at least I now knew her last name--and Papa's, as well. I had thought their last name was Herrera, like Mateo's, but clearly I was wrong. I could see that Dawson intended to escort her down the hall; to my surprise, Rosa seemed more than willing to do the photo shoot! Whether or not she would go actually through with it or not, I had no idea.

I'd made a quick grab for the manila envelope, and Dawson had handed it over without protest, his eyes on he'd taken her arm gallantly and led her down the hallway to the photo shoot, their eyes locked upon each other.

I had a feeling my partner was more than a bit smitten with Rosa. And I would be shocked if that feeling weren't returned! Hmmm, maybe I could help this potential love affair along a bit? I'd give it some thought: Dawson had been lonely since his wife Marguerite's death many years ago, and I knew from what Rosa had told me in her letters that her marriage hadn't been a bed of roses. They both deserved some happiness, and maybe they could find it together!

Yes, I was pretty sure I could think of a plan to get the two of them a lot more time together: I could always insist on calling Rosa back for another photo shoot for the next "Join the _Babe_ Nation" campaign. That is, if she actually went through with the photo shoot today. I'd need to check out if she had or not. But first, I needed to see what was in the manila envelope she'd brought today!

I raced past Tina, calling over my shoulder, "Hold my calls!" and disappeared into my office, closing the door behind me. I wasted no time at all in opening the envelope, and pulling out the enclosed photo.

_OMIGOD! _It was a black and white photo of baby Carlos, looking very serious, and totally precious! His eyes were huge and black, and his hair was lighter and curly. I was mesmerized.

After a few long minutes gazing at the photo, wondering what Carlos had been like at that age, and imagining our future children who would--I hoped--look just like him, I pulled Rosa's letter out of the envelope and sat down as I began to read it.

_Querida niña,_

_As I told you I would, I have enclosed a photo of your beloved Carlos as a baby. It is proof, I think, of my earlier words to you that he was the most adorable of babies! Just to look at him is to melt your heart, is it not? Such beautiful children you two will have, when God blesses you with issue. _

_This photo was taken by me when Carlito was only 10 months old, and just learning to walk. He was quite the independent little soul, insisting on doing things his own way, even at that early age. He drove his parents crazy with worry: he would always be into one thing or another. He moved like lightning. He'd be somewhere and then he'd suddenly vanish and be off somewhere else and into new mischief without giving anyone any warning at all. His favorite toy was a stuffed dog named Blackie, which he carried about with him everywhere. He always wanted a dog, but his mother was allergic to them, and so sadly he was never able to have a pet. Blackie was therefore his constant companion. _

_Carlos never did like to talk--he'd say only what he needed to, no extraneous chatting for him--but he loved to sing. And he had a lovely voice. He still does, though he has to be coaxed to sing these days. I hope one day--if you have not heard him already--he will sing for you. His voice is truly exceptional. _

_I do not know how much he has told you about his family. I am sure you are curious to know all you can about them before you finally meet, and so I will share something of them with you now._

_Carlos, as he may have told you, is the middle child of the Manoso family. _

_His eldest sister is 10 years Carlos' senior, and she used to treat him like her own personal doll when they were children. As a baby, he attended more of her tea parties than I can count, and was fussed over something terrible until he got of that age where he could get away from her! She still thinks of him as her baby brother: she's extremely nosy and very protective where he is concerned. I suspect that, were she to know of you, she'd make your life miserable trying to question your relationship with him. When you finally meet, expect Carlos to keep a close watch over her treatment of you. He is very protective of those he loves--and he loves you very much, as I'm sure you know._

_His brother is next in line age-wise: he is 2 years older than Carlos. He and Carlos have never been very close, because (as I suspect Carlos has told you), their father has made no secret of the fact that he much prefers his elder son to his younger. Why? Because Carlos has chosen to walk his own path in life, and not follow his father's dictates as to which profession he should choose. Carlos' elder brother has none of the fire and the independence of his younger brother, sad to say. He has allowed himself to be molded into the "perfect" son. And I suspect that he resents the fact that Carlos has walked away from the family business, when he himself was not strong enough to do so. Carlos, I suspect, resents the fact that his brother has always been the "golden child". They have a very complex relationship, and thus Carlos is much closer with Mateo Herrera than with his own brother._

_The twins are next in line in the Manoso family: they are 2 years younger than Carlos. The girls are very close, as you might expect. But although they are identical in looks, they are very different in character. The elder of the two is tremendously bossy, and not the least bit tactful at all. She can be downright rude and over-opinionated, and has a tendency to order her siblings around as if she herself were their parents. They are used to her: you may not be for quite some time. Expect Carlos to be very protective of you where she is concerned, my querida niña. She loves her brother very much, and I suspect she believes no woman is good enough for him. The younger of the twins, on the other hand, is quite bubbly and personable, very friendly and warm. She will be the first to welcome you into the family, with few questions, because you are very much like her, I think. You will both become best of friends, I am willing to bet. _

_The baby of the family is 5 years younger than Carlos. She was just married last year, and now is pregnant with her first child. She is a very sweet girl, very quiet and reserved, more than a bit shy. She too will welcome you very quickly into the family once she learns that you are Carlos' choice._

_Carlos has never brought a girl home to meet his family; when he does finally bring you, upon his return, expect them all to question you carefully. As I have told you, Carlos has carefully guarded his heart in the past. To know that he has given it to you so completely--and so suddenly--will interest all the women of the family greatly, particularly the two sisters I have warned you about. _

_I did not say what I did about those two to frighten you, Stephanie; that is far from my intention. They are good women and steadfastly loyal to their brother Carlos, as they will be to you once they get to know you. I tell you what they are like so that you will understand what you are dealing with when you do finally meet these formidable women. I know Carlos will be quite protective of you and that he will want to ensure that you are not put off by either of his sisters' attitudes. It is for that reason, I believe, that he has not introduced you to any of his family. _

_I ask you to understand why Carlos has chosen to behave as he has: do not be angry at him, please have faith in his decision to handle the introductions in his own way and in his own time. Carlos loves you very much, and he knows how best to introduce you to the Manoso family._

_Carlos' mother and his grandmother are also quite nosy, to be truthful. They are very protective of him as well. I am sure that he fears that their curiosity will frighten you off if he is not there to act as a buffer between you. Carlito is greatly in love with you, Stephanie, he fears to lose you, I think. He no doubt has convinced himself that he has chosen the right path. You may not agree. But I beg you to trust him, and to continue to have faith that he is doing what he does in your best interests._

_I am sure I sound completely and utterly mysterious to you, querida niña, and believe me, this is far from my intention. I know you have kept my secret, as I have requested, and for that I am quite grateful. I am hoping to slip into your building today and drop this envelope unobserved on your desk. Please forgive a curious old lady who wonders what the inside of your building looks like and is determined to try to sneak a peek at what your exciting life as a lingerie designer is like!_

_I'm so happy that all is going so well for you, dear Stephanie. I know Carlos will be more than proud of all that you have accomplished while he has been gone. As I told you, you have found yourself a strong man who needs a strong independent woman to stand by his side. Carlos will support you in your chosen pursuits, never fear. He is not the kind of man his father or his grandfather were. You and he will be very happy together, this I know._

_It is a long wait you have until Carlos' return in April 2010, but I know that you will be able to hold true to him and to the love you share together. You are an exceptional woman, because Carlos has chosen you to share his life with. I will do all that I can to help you through this long wait, querida niña. There will be many more photos of your beloved Carlos still to come and more letters with them, with more information for you about him._

_One day I hope and pray we two will have the chance to sit face to face over tea and discuss the man we both love. I look forward to answering as many of your questions then as I possibly can._

_With deep affection,_

_Your new friend,_

_Rosa_

I read Rosa's letter over twice more, puzzled at her plea that I not be angry at Carlos for the way he had chosen to handle my introduction to his family. I could not understand why Rosa thought there was any possibility that I _would_ be angry at him, or blame him in any way for decisions he had made about the matter. It made no sense.

Then I had a sudden epiphany that I thought explained it all: Carlos had gone to a party on Saturday, while I was attending Stella's wedding. I had at the time thought that he was visiting friends--but now I suspected that he was visiting his family instead! For certain, he had seen Mateo on Saturday, for that was when they had done the rounds of the florist, the bakery and the jeweler. Something told me now that Carlos had spent the afternoon saying goodbye to his parents, his siblings and his grandmother (and perhaps the rest of the large Manoso family)--and that he had not mentioned it to me for whatever reason. Perhaps he thought I would grill him with questions about his family that he was not ready to answer just yet? He certainly hadn't welcomed what little discussion we'd had about his relationship with father or his brother.

Rosa clearly was unaware that I was attending a wedding on Saturday afternoon--she probably thought that I would be angry at Carlos if I learned that he'd seen his family then and hadn't brought _me_ along for an introduction! It was the only thing that made any kind of sense to me. Why else would she implore me not to blame Carlos for how he'd chosen to handle things?

As for not introducing me to his family---good God, if his sisters were all that protective of him, I was more than happy _not_ to be introduced to them then left to their mercies while Carlos was overseas! They wouldn't welcome the truth of how we'd met, that much was for certain. And with all the unpleasantness I was having with my mother, I sure didn't need any other arguments with anyone else--especially not my future in-laws! I was _more_ than happy to wait until Carlos returned to meet the Manoso clan, if that was how the land lie!

I re-examined the baby photo of Carlos lovingly, grateful again for Rosa's generosity in sharing it with me. I smiled at her desire to sneak inside and place the photo on my desk without being observed: good luck getting past Tina, my guard dog! Still, I had to give Rosa credit for being crafty--she'd managed to get upstairs without any problem, albeit on a day when we were seeing many women for photo shoots.

Which reminded me: I picked up the phone and placed a quick call to Miranda, who was in charge of the photo shoot. "Question: is there a Rosa Garciapara there now? Is she doing the photo shoot?"

"Yes, she's here," Miranda confirmed, "Do you want to speak to her?"

"Not necessary," I smiled, "I just was curious as to whether or not she was going to go through with it."

"She's filled out the paperwork already, and she's been through makeup and hair. She doesn't speak any English, so Dawson is hanging around interpreting for her. She looks like she's having a great time. So does he, for that matter. Is there something going on between the two of them I should know about?"

"Who knows--maybe there will be soon," I teased, "Keep your eyes open, let me know how things go, okay? And let me know if you think we can use her in the _Babe_ Nation campaign as well."

Miranda's voice was full of amusement, "Do I detect you trying to play Cupid there, Ms. Plum?"

"Guilty as charged," I confessed. "They make a nice looking couple, don't you think?"

"They do--and they're both smiling ear to ear. This is the happiest I've ever seen Dawson, I think."

"Good! Then let's definitely use her in the _Babe_ Nation campaign, too. When she comes back next week to pick up her proof and sign off on the advertising poster, tell her that we need her again and set up another shoot with her."

"And let Dawson know."

"Of course."

"Will do. She's quite elegant: Tyler is very impressed."

"That's what I like to hear. I'm going to leave the shoot in your hands. If I show up, I might cramp Dawson's style."

"Frankly I doubt either of them would even notice you, boss. They're so enraptured with each other they're not seeing much else. But you know best."

"I hope so, anyway," I grinned, "Give a call when they're about to leave, okay? I'd like to say goodbye to her."

"No problem. It should be awhile still. We're pretty backed up here."

I hung up, then dialed Tina and told her to put my calls through again.

"Everything okay, Stevie?"

"More than fine, Tina. I had something important I needed to take care of. All's well now. Let loose the dogs."

"You've got that a scheduled call with the Vogue editor in 15 minutes."

"No problem. I'm ready whenever she is."

And I was. The day had suddenly gotten much brighter now that I had seen Rosa and gotten my hands on that much-anticipated baby photo of Carlos!

Sometime later my phone rang, and Miranda gave me the word that Rosa and Dawson had just left the photo shoot. I hustled over to the elevator just in time to wave goodbye and mouth "thank you" to her--as I watched her sail onto the elevator with Dawson in tow. So enamored was he by his companion that he didn't even notice I was there!

Miranda walked up to me minutes after the elevator door had closed.

"He's taking her to lunch," she gave me a cheeky grin, "I suspect you're not going to have to do much work as Cupid with those two, boss."

"Well, well--who'd have thunk it?" I hooted, "He moves fast, doesn't he?"

"You should have seen them: they were beyond cute! Did you set this whole thing up?"

"Nope--but I sure as hell plan to take advantage of it. Something tells me they'd be good for each other."

"They certainly seem to agree," Miranda observed.

I checked my watch, and groaned. I was running late for my own scheduled lunch date with Amanda and Melinda. "Gotta go," I gave her a quick smile. "Thanks for the heads up."

"No problem. It made my day, actually. I'm a sucker for romance!"

Weren't we all! I sped down the hall to meet my two friends.

After an enjoyable lunch, I stopped by Dawson's office to see if he and Rosa had returned yet. No sign of him. Hmmmm--seems like the two of them had really hit it off! I left a note on his desk asking him to give me a call whenever he returned, and headed back to my office where a stack of proofs awaited me.

The morning's photo shoot had been a smashing success, and Miranda and Tyler were ecstatic at the results. After sorting through the photos and picking the women we were going to use in the "Are you a _Babe_?" campaign--Rosa had made the cut, handily--I turned the photos over to Miranda for her special brand of advertising magic.

My cell phone rang moments later, and seeing the caller ID I answered with a smile in my voice.

"Estefanía! You have not changed your mind? Our cooking lesson is still on for tonight, yes?"

"How are you, Papa? No, I've been looking forward to this, I definitely haven't changed my mind. Are you sure you can spare the time for me?"

"It is my pleasure to teach you the joys of cooking, Estefanía! I thought we would start tonight with your favorite empanadas! This would please you?"

"It's fabulous! Tell me what I have to buy---"

"Nonsense! I come prepared to cook, I shall have everything we need."

"Papa! I can't have you buying me groceries!"

"It is the same as bringing take-out dinner, yes? Except that we must cook the dinner ourselves before we eat! I insist!"

"Very well--you win this time. And thank you! But for next week, you leave me a shopping list and I will buy whatever we need."

"You drive a hard bargain, Estefanía! I agree. I shall see you at 6:30, as we agreed."

"I'm looking forward to it," I assured him, ending the call. Trust Papa to insist on bringing the food! Still, it did cut down on my stress level--no need to stop at the grocery store on the way home!

I wondered what Papa's reaction would be to his mother being a _Babe! _model? Something told me that he wasn't going to be too thrilled about it. I wondered how Rosa planned to break the news to her family? She had until Christmas week to prepare them for the ads that would then start appearing nationwide in magazines. I didn't envy her the task!

She'd made it very apparent in her letter that she was planning to start taking back her independence, and I strongly suspected that the photo shoot was only the first salvo Rosa planned to fire in that war. If things really did go well between her and Dawson, that would seem to be the next battleground! I honestly didn't think Papa would be any happier at his mother having a new beau than at her being a _Babe! _model….

OY VEY! I'd better enjoy my cooking lessons while I still had them! Maybe I'd be looking for another place to hold my reception, as well?? I wondered how bad a temper Papa had, and if he'd blame _me _for all of this? After all, _I_ hadn't invited her to be a model! I guess I'd find out in a few weeks time.

By the time 6:30pm rolled around, I was starting to get hungry, and welcomed Papa enthusiastically.

He'd come not only with a grocery bag full of food, but also with a huge beautifully gift-wrapped box which he handed me with a smile. It took him a second trip to the car, the box was so big! "This is from Alejandro, Mateo and me. A housewarming gift for you, Estefanía!"

"You shouldn't have!" I exclaimed, wasting no time at all in tearing open the enormous box.

Papa watched indulgently, "Ah, but I _should_ have! It is necessary if I am to give you the proper cooking lessons, yes?"

"Oh, Papa! This is incredible! Really--it's too much!" I was dumb-founded: he'd gifted me with a complete set of Calphalon cookware, a gift that had to be worth several hundred dollars! "I don't know what to say! This is--this is--"

"This is exactly what you need if you are to become serious about cooking, Estefanía," Papa insisted. "You cannot expect a professional result if you are to cook on the bargain-rate cookware! It is not done! Not at all."

"But, Papa---"

"I insist! You will accept this, please, Estefanía, or you shall bruise my tender feelings," Papa smiled

"Bruise your tender feelings, huh?" I grinned. "I certainly wouldn't want to do that!"

He smiled wider. "I am a professional chef, child, I cannot cook on sub-par cookware. Truly, you do me a favor allowing me to teach you how to cook. This I _love_ to do, and none of my family are interested in having me share my passion with them. I have been looking forward to this ever since you first mentioned the idea on the night of your launch party."

"Thank you so much! I am very grateful, Papa, not only for the cookware, but also that you are willing to teach me. Honestly, I have to warn you: I'm a terrible cook. I wasn't kidding when I told you how bad I am."

"I am a very patient man, Estefanía. I shall have you preparing the most delicious of meals in no time, I promise you! Tonight we shall do empanadas, with a salad, and then next week we shall do your other favorite, papas rellenas, with barbeque chicken. Does that please you?"

"It sounds absolutely delicious. Especially since I'm used to nuking frozen dinners or calling for take-out for dinner."

"Nuking? What is this _nuking_?"

"Microwaving."

Papa shuddered in horror. "No, this we will most certainly _not _do. Nuking the frozen dinner? _Unacceptable! _Come, wash your hands, I will teach you how to make the dough."

"We're going to make the dough from scratch?"

"How else to make empanadas?"

"Don't they sell those packages of ready-made dough?"

Papa snorted derisively, "AH! I do not use the ready-made _anything_! I am a chef! I make dough with my own hands. So shall you, Estefanía! We do not take the short cuts here!"

"If you say so," I said, uncertainly. Frankly, the idea of me making dough from scratch scared the hell out of me: too many things could go wrong. Dough was supposed to _rise_. Mine would no doubt sink like a lead balloon!

"Have faith, Estefanía," Papa encouraged me, "You have made the great success from your business. Yes? So too shall you make a success out of cooking! No more will you need to nuke the frozen foods! You will learn to make your food yourself and do it with ease."

"I hope so," I sighed, wondering for the first time what I'd really gotten myself into.

"This is a beautiful kitchen," he congratulated me, "You are happy here in your new home?"

"Very much so," I agreed, as I finished washing my hands and Papa washed his.

"I am glad to hear that," he set out the ingredients we would need, and launched into teaching mode.

Papa was an excellent teacher, and every bit as patient as he'd told me he was. Before long I was pushing a pan of hand-made beef empanadas into my oven, and turning my attention next to making a salad.

"No pre-bagged greens for you, huh?" I teased, enjoying the easy camaraderie we had.

"The horror of it all," he groaned, "How much effort does it take to make a salad? Why do people need to take the short cuts?"

"You've never once just taken a short cut---ever? Honestly?" I pressed, curious.

"I do not take the easy way out," Papa replied, rinsing the greens. He looked unhappily at my knives, "I should have gotten you a set of knives as well."

"Don't you dare," I warned him, "Tell me what I need to get and I'll buy them. Although as long as they cut the tomatoes, what's the difference?"

"I have much to teach you," he sighed, "By the time you have finished your lessons, you will never go shopping the same way again."

"That's actually kind of scary," I replied, watching him assemble the ingredients for our salad. "And I suppose we don't do bottled dressing, either?"

"I am not going to dignify that with an answer," he laughed. "It is much healthier to make the dressing yourself. No preservatives. You can taste the difference--you'll see for yourself."

He was right: by the time we sat down to eat, I was famished. And the food had never tasted better! Papa had been true to his word: he'd taught me how to cook, not just prepared the meal himself. He'd shown me how to do everything, then stood back and had me do the work myself. And my dough hadn't been the disaster I'd feared. In fact, the beef empanadas had turned out flaky and golden, and I'd never enjoyed anything more!

"This is soooooooo good!" I moaned, diving back for seconds. "I can't believe I didn't screw it up!"

"Why would you think you would--as you say--screw it up?" he asked. "You give yourself no credit, Estefanía!"

"Force of habit, I guess," I sighed, "My attempts in the kitchen have always been disasters. My mother tried to teach me how to cook when I was younger, but I never got the hang of it, I'm afraid. My sister Valerie was a quick learner; I always needed more hands-on guidance because I wasn't really interested. And then I'd mess it up, and my mother would roll her eyes and tell me I'd never get a husband if I couldn't cook."

"I do not think Carlos expects you to cook, in order to be caught as husband material."

"That's true enough: thank God. I already warned him I can't cook to save my life and he said it didn't matter to him. He'd be fine with nuking frozen foods," I teased.

Papa snorted, "No Cuban man worth his salt is fine with nuking frozen food, Estefanía. But Carlos loves you, so he will make do with take-out foods if you can not cook yourself."

"Maybe you can teach Carlos how to cook," I joked, "In case I flunk out of your cooking class."

There was a long pause. I looked over at Papa, who had a strange look on his face. "Are you okay? I was just teasing you," I said quickly, "I don't plan to flunk out. I'm taking this very seriously, Papa. I promise."

Papa sighed deeply, then met my eyes with a soft smile, "I know you are, child. I just--somehow I do not see Carlos asking me to teach him how to cook. Ever."

"Probably not," I agreed, "He's not the cooking type. The eating type, yes. But I can't picture Carlos slaving away in a kitchen. No offense."

"No. None taken. Carlos is most definitely not the kind of man who would ever be at home in a kitchen. He would not be happy there. Not for an evening. Much less for the rest of his life."

"The rest of his life?" I repeated, trying to get a handle on what I was missing. "OH! You mean, being a chef? No, he wouldn't be. He loves being a soldier. Although, he told me he plans to leave the Army after we get married. He wants to open a security business with 3 of his Army buddies. I think he'll be a huge success at that. Carlos is the kind of man who will be a success at whatever he puts his mind to, don't you think?"

"Yes, I do," Papa said quietly. "You are happy with this plan of his?"

"Absolutely. Whatever Carlos wants to do, I'll support 100%. I love him. I want him to be happy."

"This is good. How are your plans coming for the wedding?"

"Well, to tell you the truth, we're pretty much stalled at least for now. I'm waiting for the annulment to come through before I can book the church. Mateo says we're on track for the first week or so of December. Then I'll call Sacred Heart---"

"Sacred Heart?" Papa looked stunned.

"Yeah. I've decided to get married in Sacred Heart Cathedral Basilica in Newark, rather than my home parish of St. Stephen's in Chambersburg. For a few reasons. Not the least of which is that my mother will try to mess up my wedding if I do any planning in the Burg. You had to guess that much from the little you spoke to her on the night of the launch party, right? She's not exactly behind the wedding."

"She does not like Carlos?"

"She's never even met him. Not that it matters in the least to her, you understand. He's not from the Burg, so he's not acceptable. She'd prefer a guy from the neighborhood--any guy."

"This Joseph Morelli, he is from the neighborhood?"

"Oh, God! You remembered! Yeah, Morelli's from the Burg, all right. My mother and his mother are friends, they've pretty much decided to pair us off. Despite the fact that I can't stand the sight of the guy, for reasons that I'm not going to get into. But trust me when I tell you: if I planned the wedding in the Burg, my mother would be devoting all her time and efforts to screwing around with my plans, just for the hell of it. So I'm out-smarting her, and planning the wedding in Newark."

"You've joined the Sacred Heart parish?"

"I did," I confirmed, "But I haven't mentioned anything to them about setting a wedding date because I don't want to have to bring up the annulment until I have it as a definite."

"You will have it," Papa said flatly, "I told you: we know people in the church."

I smiled, "That's what Mateo said: plus Dickie--my ex--he flat out admitted fraud in the papers he signed. So Mateo said the annulment is a guarantee. I just don't want to call to schedule a date until I have the paperwork in order, though."

"I understand. Sacred Heart--that is my parish."

"It is? Oh! I had no idea!"

"It is Carlos' parish, as well. It was--before he joined the Army. It was his parish when he was a child. He was baptized there, received first communion and was confirmed there. Did you know that?"

"Really?" OMIGOD! "I had no idea--Carlos and I didn't get to discuss that kind of thing. He just told me to plan the wedding, however I wanted it to be, big or small. And I just decided that it was a beautiful church. Gothic."

"French Gothic, actually. It is the fifth largest cathedral in the US."

"Wow! I had no idea! Mateo didn't mention it. It's his parish too?"

"It is. I am happy you have chosen to wed in that parish, Estefanía. I am very pleased!"

"So am I! I had no idea it was Carlos' home parish, but that makes it even more special! I'm hoping we can get a date early in June 2010, that way we can have a 2 week honeymoon before Carlos is called back to duty in July 6th."

"He does not go overseas again?" Papa sounded horrified.

"No, no, nothing like that." I assured him, "He told me that he returns on April 6th, 2010, and that he has 3 months of desk duty. Then July 6th he is scheduled to go to Fort Bragg, North Carolina to teach the new recruits for 6 months. Then he's able to leave the service."

"You will return to North Carolina with him?"

"Of course! I'll rent an apartment. Not that we discussed it, but there's no way on earth I'm going to let my husband go back to North Carolina without me! Especially after 18 months without him!"

"What of your company?"

"I can work long-distance! I'll have Dawson--my partner--here in Newark. I'll be able to email and send Fed Ex packages and conference call and whatever, long distance. I'm putting Carlos first. I've already told Dawson as much, and that's fine with him."

"Excellent," Papa approved, "This is good news, you are deeply committed to your marriage, this guarantees its success."

"Well, nothing guarantees anything, unfortunately," I sighed, "But Carlos comes first, that much is certain. I'm doing that for me, just as much as for him. I love him too much to be without him for another 6 months. It's hard enough being without him for 18 months!"

"I am sorry you have this long a wait, Estefanía."

"So am I, but Carlos has gone out of his way to make it easier for me. See my bracelet?" I showed it to him proudly, "Carlos gave it to me! And he pre-ordered charms for me, Mateo keeps delivering them, with letters from Carlos! And he sends me flowers every 2 weeks! And he's arranged for me to get desserts from Dipaolo Bros.---"

"Dipaolo Bros.? They do the desserts for _Rosa's_--"

"Exactly! Carlos knows I love desserts. And my mother isn't speaking to me these days, much less baking me any dessert. So Carlos has them sending me dessert every other week. And he gave me a new car! A Porsche! Would you believe it?"

"Carlos has done all this?"

"He's the most romantic man in the world, Papa! He writes the most beautiful loving letters. They just melt my heart! Every time I get to feeling low, I just pull out one of his letters and read how much he loves me, and I know I can get through this. Only 17 more months, and then he'll be with me for the rest of our lives!"

"Carlos is this romantic? Really? To write beautiful love letters and send flowers and gifts? Truly?" Papa sounded stunned.

"Truly," I agreed, my smile ear to ear. "See? He sent me a Wonder Woman charm--because I always wanted to be Wonder Woman. And then he sent me a Superman charm---"

"AH! Yes, Carlos always did love to pretend he was Superman," Papa said softly, as if to himself.

"And then here's my Porsche! He had Mateo deliver the charm first, then he took me outside, and there was the car in my driveway!"

"Mateo delivered this?"

"Yes, Mateo said Carlos had him out shopping the day before we went to _Rosa's_ for dinner."

"I had no idea," Papa shook his head incredulously. "He continues to surprise me, even now."

"Me too," I nodded, "He's so romantic!"

"I am happy he treats you so well, Estefanía," he replied, "It is good that he lets you know how much he loves you. I saw from his face that night how happy you make him."

"That's what Mateo said. I hope I do. I want to make him as happy as he makes me."

"And certainly you do," he assured me, "A man does not do all that Carlos has done if a woman does not fill his heart with joy!"

"A woman wants to know a man loves her," I agreed, "It means everything to her. Surely you know this from your own wife."

"Yes, yes, of course," Papa said, slowly. "A woman needs to know these things. It is important to her to have gestures of love."

"Exactly. Anyway, to get back to the wedding: I'm pretty much stalled on the plans until we get the date set in stone. Once we do, I can lock in the date with the florist and the bakery--both of which Carlos has essentially picked out for us--"

"You plan to use those vendors because Carlos has chosen them?"

"Of course! I want him to have a hand in planning the wedding, too. This way I can do it! And you said you'll hold open the date for us at _Rosa's_??"

"Don't worry, Estefanía! I have not forgotten! Whichever date you select, _Rosa's_ is at your service, I give you my word! In fact, I suggest that since we are meeting to cook on Monday nights, I can bring the catering menu along and we can plan the wedding here!"

"Perfect! That would be beyond convenient!"

"Then it is settled. I shall bring the menu next week and we can discuss the types of food you wish to serve. Then I shall teach you how to prepare the dishes, so that you are an expert on Cuban food by the time June 2010 comes around! How does that sound?"

"Absolutely delicious!"

And it did!

_To see the photo of Carlos as a baby, check the TNH photo album--the link is in My Profile. Trust me, he's absolutely adorable, lol! And it is the actual baby picture of the actor I picture as my Carlos, Miguel Angel Silvestre._


	71. Chapter 71

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. Hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 71

_Ricardo's POV_

Once again, Estefanía's heartfelt words had given me much to think about. I was supposed to be the teacher; but again I learned from this young woman who had such love in her heart and such boundless faith in my son. I was humbled by the experience.

Carlos had been my son for 26 years, yet I knew him not. He had been her beloved for one weekend, and she knew him as no one ever had before. As I drove home from her townhouse, I pondered the lessons I had learned this evening.

I could still hear her confident words ringing in my ears: _"Carlos is the kind of man who will be a success at whatever he puts his mind to, don't you think?"_

Such faith she had in my son. And I, his father, had had none. I had been so certain that without my interfering in his life, pushing him towards a profession that held no interest for him whatsoever, Carlos would not be able to support himself or his family! What an egotistical fool I had been! What a spectacular failure I had been as a father! I wondered if my son could ever find it in himself to forgive me for my insensitivity.

Estefanía's words had been so definite: _"He's not the cooking type. The eating type, yes. But I can't picture Carlos slaving away in a kitchen. No offense."_

And when she said them, it all became clear! No, of course Carlos was not the type of man who would ever be happy as a chef! He had never once shown any interest in cooking all through his childhood, no matter how relentlessly I pushed it upon him. He had, at first, brushed it off as unimportant. Then, when he'd finally realized that I meant for him to devote his life to the pursuit, he had fought it tooth and nail, willfully disobeying every order I gave for him to follow in my footsteps, as I had followed in my own father's.

Why had it angered me so that he chose another path? Why had I needed to bend him to my will, when it was obvious to anyone with reason that Carlos could not be swayed from a decision he had made--especially one that was so critical to his own happiness? Why had I fought so hard to push him into a mold that he clearly did not fit?

Could it possibly be--_no_! I could not be so petty! _Could I? _The idea niggled in the dark recesses of my brain, finally forcing its way out into the light.

I too had fought the idea of becoming a chef, albeit quietly, in my own way: I had been determined to be an artist. Then my elder brother Alejandro had died, and I had surrendered my destiny into my strong-willed father's hands, and become in essence, his shadow. I had reluctantly pushed away crayons and paper, and had taken into my hands recipe cards, memorizing them as I had later memorized schoolbooks. I had done it for his acceptance. I had done it because I somehow knew that my only value to my father was as his heir to _Rosa's--_not as his son but as his surrogate. _Dios! _Had I really turned into all that I had secretly hated about my father? How could I have imposed on my son what I myself had, in my heart of hearts, resented? And--even more important--had I only done this to _one_ son? Or had I pushed my elder son into something he too resented?

Alejandro had none of the stubbornness and independence that Carlos possessed. Alejandro had always been an easy-going, placid child, a follower rather than a leader. He never put one foot out of place, he did what was expected of him without question. And he had followed my dictates, had become the chef I wanted him to be. Did he secretly resent me, as I had my own Papa?

Had I ever once considered that perhaps _neither one of my sons _wanted to follow in my footsteps? Of course I hadn't! I had taken Alejandro's acceptance of his duty as my due, and held him up to his younger brother as the shining example of a dutiful son which he should follow without question. I knew nothing of the man Alejandro now was, as I knew nothing of the man Carlos had become. I was a complete failure as a father!

As the car made its own way towards Newark, my mind reeled from these new revelations that now forced their way into my consciousness. I was not only a colossal failure as a father, I was most probably an equal failure as a husband, as well. Although my dear Teresa complained not--not openly, at least.

What had Estefanía said? _"A woman wants to know a man loves her. It means everything to her." _Carlos had spent one of his last days at home selecting romantic gifts for his woman. He had considered carefully the length of time they would be apart, and her need for reassurance of his love. And he had chosen well: Estefanía had glowed when she showed off her lovely charm bracelet. She had such love in her eyes when she told of his gifts. And all this my son had accomplished in the course of one afternoon!

I, on the other hand, had more time than I could count on my hands--and I had done nothing even remotely romantic for the woman I loved! My darling Teresa had borne me 6 children, had stood lovingly by my side through 38 years of marriage, and had given me nothing but love and encouragement every day of our life together. And yet I couldn't remember the last time I had done anything at all in the way of a romantic gesture for my woman!

Yes, of course I had thought of buying her pretty lingerie when I had attended the _Babe! l_aunch party at the Bel Aire Estates. But had I actually _done _it? No, sadly, I had not. And even then, the gesture had come into my head only because I wanted some heat in the bedroom, not because I wanted to put a smile on my Teresa's beautiful face! What kind of selfish man was I? I was ashamed of myself!

What would it have cost me in time to pick up the phone and order my wife a bouquet of roses? No! Not roses! I must think more like my romantic son! Roses were not Teresa's favorite flower. What was? _Think, Ricardo, think! _Irises! Yes! Teresa loved purple irises! I would call the florist first thing in the morning and order her a bouquet of purple irises, no matter what the cost! Surely they would be able to get them somewhere, no matter that it was now mid-November?

Yes! And I would stop in at the mall tomorrow and pick up some delicate lingerie for Teresa, as well as a pretty piece of jewelry for her! Not a bracelet, Teresa did not favor bracelets. _Earrings! _Yes, that would be perfect. I would select a pair of long dangly gold earrings to accentuate my beautiful wife's graceful neck.

And then perhaps I would stop at the bookstore and buy a selection of love poems! I would find the words somehow to express how much I loved her and appreciated her. I would begin to woo my wife once again, as I had once, long long ago when I first met my lovely Teresa! It was settled. I would begin to show my woman how much I love her, as was her right.

And Alejandro. My dutiful elder son. I would need to sit down with him, find the words somewhere to open up the dialogue that we needed to have. I dreaded it, as I dreaded the discussion I would one day need to have with Carlos. But it was every bit as necessary. I needed to know if Alejandro was sacrificing his own happiness because of my selfish need to pass _Rosa's _on to my son.

Dios! What would I do if the answer were yes? Would I be brave enough to tell him to be true to his own heart, if that meant walking away from _Rosa's_ forever? Would I be able to face the prospect of _Rosa's_ one day being sold to strangers, with no Manosos willing to helm the restaurant into a new generation?

I had to be strong. I had to be a man. I would finally put my sons before myself. If indeed Alejandro were only a chef to suit me, I would release him from his bonds, and apologize most profusely for my conduct which had led him to squander his life to satisfy my twisted ideal of how a dutiful son should behave.

I pulled into my driveway, and took a deep breath.

Estefanía's simple words had made it all so crystal clear to me, finally: _"Whatever Carlos wants to do, I'll support 100%. I love him. I want him to be happy." _

I loved both Alejandro and Carlos, as I loved their mother Teresa. As I loved all four of my daughters. I would start opening my eyes and my heart and putting them first! I would support what they wanted to do with their lives, 100%. Because I loved them. Because I wanted them to be happy.

No matter what the cost!

I would finally become the man I should have been, rather than the man my father had made me into. Who knows? Maybe while I was in that bookstore, I would pick up a book on painting, as well?

Yes…_why not? _After all, I had 18 long months to wait before I could finish my transformation into a loving father.


	72. Chapter 72

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. Hope you enjoy!_

_Please assume that everyone is speaking Spanish in this chapter; I'm not going to try and translate, there is too much danger of error!_

Chapter 72

_Abuela Rosa's POV_

"I tell you, Mama, Ricardo is having an affair. A woman knows these things," my daughter-in-law insisted, her lovely face reflecting the anguish you would expect a loving wife to show were such a statement in fact true. Which I was positive it was not. Ricardo was nowhere near that adventurous a man. To say nothing about the fact that he loved Teresa and was far too honorable a man to cheat on her.

"This cannot be true," I said firmly, "I do not believe it for even a second."

"I do not _want _to believe it, Mama. I have no other choice, however: he has been behaving most unlike himself for the last week! He has done things that he has never in his life done before. _Romantic _things. _Passionate _things."

_Dios! _I did not want to know anything of this! That was her business--hers and her husband's. Not mine. Certainly not _mine_!

I sighed deeply and shook my head as she continued to pour her misgivings out, one after the other. This litany had begun over 20 minutes earlier, and I had a strong feeling it was destined to continue for another 20 or so. I was desperately trying to get out of the house unobserved--but that was clearly not going to be possible. So much for getting to Books/Plum Designs to pick up my proof today!

"Ricardo sent me _flowers_, I tell you! And our anniversary is not until July! Which he always forgets, anyway! How can you explain this conduct away, Mama? _Flowers? _And not roses--_no_! He has suddenly remembered that my favorite flower is the iris, and he has given me the most beautiful bouquet of irises! Delivered to me with a hand-written note: a sonnet by William Blake! When have you ever known Ricardo--of all men--to read _poetry_?"

"Never before has he done so," I admitted, wondering what new foolishness my son had gotten into his thick head. "It is most unlike him, certainly."

"He is having an _affair_, I tell you! I knew it that night, when I called the restaurant to speak to him and he did not pick up the telephone. Ricardo always spends Monday nights at _Rosa's_, working on new recipes. _It relaxes him_, he says. But he was not there last Monday night--although when I made an excuse to ask him how things were at the restaurant that night, he lied to me and said all was well! Why else would he lie about where he was, if not that he was having an affair?"

"Why on earth does Ricardo do _anything_ he does?" I asked, reasonably. "Perhaps he is going through the change of life."

I certainly could not tell her that he was giving Stephanie Plum cooking lessons. Trust Ricardo to make a hash of everything! I'd _known_ that this stupid plan of his would blow up in his face: little did I know how quickly it would do so!

"He's found another woman, I tell you! I _know_ it! He has brought me lingerie--lovely filmy sheer lingerie--and he has been most amorous in the bedroom, as well!"

"A mother does not need to hear this kind of thing about her son, Teresa," I protested, "However, if he is indeed being amorous, does this not prove that _you_ are the one in his thoughts, and not this supposed other woman? Perhaps he has woken up and decided to value that which he has long taken for granted?"

"Ricardo is not like that," Teresa shook her head sadly, "Ricardo _never_ gives me pretty things! He always gifts with _practical_ presents! This you know yourself, Mama! And how else to explain the fact that he has also given me golden earrings? He is feeling guilty, and has decided to lesson his shame by giving presents to me! What am I to do? How can I fight this other woman, when I have no idea who she is?"

"There _is _no other woman for you to fight," I insisted, "Ricardo is not the kind of man to dally with other women, Teresa. He is no doubt trying to make you happy by--for once--being an attentive husband. And, as is always the case, he has been too heavy-handed in his efforts. You must have faith in your husband, daughter. He loves you. Only you. Let him show it for once, and stop expecting the worst. Enjoy your lovely gifts."

"How _can_ I? When instead I wonder what he has gifted his mistress with? Perhaps I should do what Joanna DeCarlo did when her Antonio started staying out late at night?"

"What might _that _be?"

I almost feared to ask: Joanna DeCarlo was an idiotic drama queen, and her husband was a fool.

"She hired a private detective to follow him! Perhaps I too should hire a private detective, do you think?"

_Dios! That would be a fine mess! _"Certainly not, Teresa! This is _ridiculous_! Ricardo would go through the roof were you to hire a man to spy upon him! What kind of foolishness is going on in this house? First Ricardo. Then you. I hardly know what to expect these days!"

"Is that a new dress? It is quite becoming on you," Teresa said, suddenly noticing what I was wearing.

"Yes, it is new. I think it is quite stylish, don't you?"

I had chosen it carefully at Macy's: it made me look 10 years younger, the saleswoman said. I wondered if Dawson would think so?

"You do not usually buy new dresses. Are you going somewhere special today?"

"Ah! So now it is _my_ whereabouts you question, daughter? Why, am I not entitled to buy myself a new frock now and then without being questioned on the matter? Given what they call the third degree?"

"Of course you are! I did not mean to question you, Mama," she apologized, "It is just that my nerves are on edge over this terrible matter."

"Go shopping then," I advised her, "Or go to the salon and get your hair done. Get your nails done, as well, why don't you? Treat yourself well, Teresa. Do not dwell on ridiculous thoughts and worry yourself half to death with silliness that is not possible."

"The salon is closed today: it is Monday. Besides, I cannot concentrate on anything else but this. My whole _life _is at stake, Mama! My marriage is crumbling around me."

_Dios! _My daughter-in-law was hanging around Joanna DeCarlo too much: she too was becoming a drama queen!

"Well, go to Macy's then, and spend Ricardo's money. You'll feel better."

I did not have time for this foolishness! Pedro was due to pick me up any moment now!

"Is that where you are going? Shopping at Macy's? Perhaps we can go together? I shall take your advice, Mama! I shall run up a _huge_ credit card bill and let Ricardo pay for it! That will be less money he can spend on his mistress! How about that? I shall teach him a lesson!"

My daughter-in-law ran to grab her purse and her coat, and before I knew it, I had a companion for the day! How in the world was I to explain to her why I was visiting Books/Plum Designs today?

"I am not going shopping, Teresa. I have another errand to run, instead. You do not need to waste your valuable time following me around: this old woman is far too boring for you. Best you call one of your friends and go to lunch. How about that?"

"No, I cannot eat a thing, Mama. I am far too upset. No, I shall keep you company instead. Where are we going?"

Teresa was adamant: _we_ clearly were going _together_.

I was annoyed enough that I just barely resisted the urge to stamp my foot petulantly! I was so looking forward to picking up my "Are you a _Babe_?" proof and seeing how glamorous they had made me look! I would certainly look more fetching than Edna Mazur--that much I knew!

Perhaps Dawson planned to invite me out to lunch yet again? We'd spent the most delightful few hours last week at an Italian bistro across the street from his office. He'd asked for my phone number, and he'd called me several times during the week. I had been so looking forward to today: he'd asked me not once but twice if I were indeed coming in today! Surely that meant _something_?

"I can drive us wherever we need to go, Mama," she assured me, "You have no need to use that boy to take you around town. I don't understand why you call him in the first place. Haven't I told you I don't mind driving you anywhere?"

"I prefer to ride with Pedro," I insisted, "I don't like to be any trouble." _Besides, he doesn't question where I'm going or with whom I'm planning to meet when I get there._

"Have you noticed anything different about Alejandro lately?" she continued to chatter, as I slipped on my coat and we headed for the door.

"Now it is my grandson you suspect of having an affair?" I grumbled, not happy at all.

"No, certainly not," she sniffed, "But something is off with him, I can tell. A mother knows these things! He and his father both have been behaving differently over the last few days. I asked Alejandro what was bothering him, and he said nothing---"

"See? That proves you are making the mountain out of the molehill, does it not?"

I checked my watch, noting that Pedro was due any moment now. How on earth was I to deal with this new development? Where was I to have him drive us, if not to Books/Plum Designs?

"I am _not _imagining things, Mama! Things are strained between Alejandro and his father, I think. Alejandro is very quiet--overly so, I think. And Ricardo is trying too hard to pretend that everything is normal. That is the dead give-away: you know he is a terrible liar."

"Indeed. He always was, since he was a young boy. But that does not mean he is having an affair."

"Perhaps Alejandro has discovered his father's duplicity? And the two have quarreled over it?"

"Perhaps you have been watching too many soap operas."

"You may mock me, Mama. But when my marriage falls apart and Ricardo brings home another woman in my place, you'll see that I was right."

Mercifully, Pedro chose this moment to pull up, and we climbed into the car as I mulled over what next to do. The boy was on the ball, as always: I saw him glance over at me, wondering where he was to drive me. He knew quite well where we were _supposed_ to go--he also knew well enough that my daughter-in-law was _not_ supposed to know anything about it.

"Where do we head now, Mrs. Manoso?" he asked quietly.

I made a sudden decision. I was _not_ going to give up my opportunity to see Dawson and enjoy my glamorous photograph! There was only _one_ way to prevent Teresa from blabbing to my son about my activities: _make her an accomplice_! This I had now the perfect opportunity to do, given her ridiculous insecurities! Oh, truly I was the most wicked of women!

I smiled, "Take me to the very same office that I visited last week."

I saw the look of surprise on Pedro's expressive face.

He nodded, and did as he was ordered.

My daughter-in-law was so wrapped up in her own thoughts, she paid not a bit of attention to my words. "I shall never forgive Ricardo for this, you know. Never. Forcing my own son to lie to me about his fancy woman."

"_Hush_, Teresa," I scolded her, "You go too far. Pedro, you will say nothing of this foolishness to anyone."

"No, Mrs. Manoso. Certainly not." He had one more thing to add to his long list of secrets.

"I wonder if the girls know what their father is up to," she worried.

"_Enough_, Teresa! Ricardo is true to you. I will not hear another word about this."

"I am sorry, Mama. I know he is your son. But he is my husband. And he wounds me deeply with his behavior. If any of my children know of it--"

"They will certainly know of it--or what you think is happening, anyway--if you go on yammering incessantly about it," I pointed out. "Nothing is quite as pitiful as a wronged woman who whines non-stop about her bad fortune. No one wants to hear about it, Teresa. Particularly when the only excitement that is happening is occurring in your all-too-vivid imagination! You have not asked me what _I _would do, were I in your place."

"You have already told me: you would go shopping," she sulked.

"That is not _all_ I would do," I said, archly.

That got my daughter-in-law's attention, as indeed it was meant to do.

"What else would you do, Mama? Pray--_tell me_!"

"I should make my man _very_ sorry he had underestimated me." I gave her a slow smile, much like that of a Cheshire Cat. "I should become quite mysterious myself. Make him wonder what all I was up to, in his absence."

"What do you mean? How can I do that?"

"_Indeed? _How _can_ you?" I teased, giving Pedro a saucy wink as he looked over at me. The boy was catching on to my ingenious plan--and his look was priceless. Oh, indeed, I was beyond brilliant. And oh so devious!

"Do you mean, make Ricardo think I am seeing someone else? Pretend I'm having an affair? Leave clues around to make him think there is another man?"

_Dios! My daughter-in-law was just as foolish as my son! _"Certainly not! What all would _that_ accomplish? Particularly when he isn't doing anything to warrant you cheating on him? All that you would manage to do is get Ricardo riled up and head yourself into divorce court!"

"Then what _else_ am I to do?" she worried. "I've never been in this position before!"

"You leave it to me, dear," I assured her, "I'll handle everything for you!"

And I would--with a little help from Dawson and his minions!

"What are we doing _here_?" Teresa asked, some 15 minutes later, as she and I entered the Books/Plum Designs building and I led us determinedly to the second floor.

"Handling my personal business," I answered, "And fixing your problem, as well. Remember what I told you: _act mysteriously_! Not a word of this to Ricardo, or indeed, to anyone else! We are going to make my son look at you in a whole new way!"

"How are we going to do that?" she asked, as she followed me dutifully. "I don't understand, Mama. Why are we here?"

"Hush, daughter. Listen and learn!" I sailed confidently up to the reception desk outside the photography salon where I recognized a familiar face. Esther, I knew, spoke quite a bit of Spanish. She and I had chatted briefly during my last visit here, last week. "Rosa Garciapara, here to pick up my _Babe! _photograph."

My daughter-in-law gave me a look that almost made me laugh out loud.

"Certainly, Ms. Garciapara! I have your photograph here, along with an envelope for you from Ms. Plum. Would you please sign here?" I took both manila envelopes, barely resisting the impulse to tear into both of them! I wanted to see my proof, but I also wanted to read the letter Stephanie had, I was certain, left for me!

"Is Mr. Books around?" I couldn't resist asking.

"Yes, Ms. Garciapara, he is. In fact, I have a note here that he's asked to be informed when you arrived."

"Who is Mr. Books?" interjected Teresa in confusion. "And why on earth are you using your maiden name, Mama? What _Babe! _photograph?"

"Hush!" I ordered her imperiously, "I told you: listen and learn!"

She gave me an annoyed look, and I decided to take pity on her. That, and I was desperate to see my glamorous photograph!

I opened up the larger of the manila envelopes, and drew out the 8x10 color proof contained therein. My mouth dropped open as I beheld myself in all my all-too-considerable glory! I looked _stunning_!

"Oh, my!" I felt myself grinning ear to ear. I was really quite thrilled!

"Mama! You look---you look---" Teresa was at a loss for words, for once in her life.

"Yes?" I smirked. "I look?"

"Absolutely ravishing." Dawson's cultured voice sounded behind us, and I blushed, whirling to meet him.

"Dawson! My! I had no idea you'd be here!" I lied.

Esther gave me an amused look. I ignored her.

"Rosa! I've been looking forward to seeing you again!" Dawson took my hand and quite gallantly kissed it, as my daughter-in-law looked on in wonderment. "You're pleased with your photograph, I hope?"

"Quite pleased," I admitted, unable to hide my delight. I indicated my companion, "This is my daughter-in-law, Teresa Montoya." I used Teresa's maiden name, and she opened her mouth to question me. I glared at her decisively, and she shut her mouth quickly. "Teresa, this is Dawson Books. He's a partner in the Books/Plum Designs company. You know? They make that lovely _Babe! _lingerie that everyone is talking about."

"Oh, of course! I recognized the name," she said slowly, "I just didn't know where from. My husband Ricardo has bought me _Babe! _lingerie. It's quite lovely." She smiled a welcome as Dawson took her hand and gallantly kissed it, as well. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Books."

"_Dawson_, please! Dare I hope that you too have come in to model for us, as well, Mrs. Montoya?"

I grinned happily. _Yes, that was indeed my plan! _I had spotted Tyler--the photographer--through the glass door of the studio, and I'd hoped that they were still doing make-overs today, as they had been last week.

Teresa looked over at me questioningly. I could see from her expression that, after seeing my beautiful photograph, she dearly wanted to answer _yes_.

I took pity on her. "I hope it wasn't too presumptuous of me, Dawson, but I told my daughter-in-law all about this exciting opportunity. And Teresa is quite anxious to be a _Babe! _model. Aren't you, Teresa?"

She nodded, still dazed.

Dawson beamed happily, "Wonderful! Step right inside, ladies! Miranda is there now, and I dare say we can have Mrs. Montoya moved up to the front of the line so you both don't have to wait a long time."

He ushered us into the studio, and before we knew it, Teresa was being led to the dressing room by the stylist as Dawson and I waited by a bank of photographs.

"Have you seen your print ad yet, Rosa? It's quite outstanding!"

"I've seen my photo, but not the ad itself," I replied.

Dawson smiled happily, "_Excellent! _BecauseI was hoping I'd get to be the one who showed it to you!" He led me over to a wall of photographs, each sized 11x14 inches. To my amazement--and delight--my photograph hung prominently on the wall!

"Are you a _Babe_?" asked the red text, boldly.

"What do you think?" Dawson questioned, "Are you pleased with it?"

"How can I not be?" I was beyond pleased! "My! This is so much more than anything I'd expected!"

"You look lovely," he said quietly, and I felt my cheeks redden. "Dare I hope that you'll join me for dinner tomorrow evening?"

"I'd like that," I replied, smiling happily. "Very much. Where shall we meet?"

"_Meet? _Oh, I shall come and pick you up at your home, of course," he answered promptly. "I shouldn't think of asking you to make your way to the restaurant alone, Rosa, when I know you don't drive."

Oh, dear! I hadn't thought of that! I knew Ricardo would be at the restaurant and thus out of the picture (thank God)--but Teresa would definitely be home. And I wasn't at all ready for her to know that I had myself a new beau, as well as a new career as a model. Still…she was now my accomplice, after all! What would be the harm?

"How lovely. Let me give you my address," I said, giving him my most charming smile.

"Not necessary: remember, I have your paperwork! That means I already have your address," he reminded me.

Damn! Damn! Damn! He had the address for Beatrice Alverez! The address I'd given in order to keep my check and any paperwork from Books/Plum Designs from coming to my house! I could hardly show up at Beatrice's house tonight in dress clothes and be picked up to go to a restaurant! Let alone be dropped off there later in the evening, after we'd had what I hoped was a quite romantic dinner!

It wasn't fair, really! I was trying so desperately to be wicked and here I was, hoist by my own petard, as they say! Whatever was I to do?

"Oh dear," I sighed, "This is most terribly awkward."

"A problem?" Dawson looked concerned. "Don't tell me, you already have prior plans for tomorrow evening?"

"No, no, certainly not," I said quickly, lest the longed-for invitation be withdrawn. "I just meant that--I should much prefer to meet you there. I hope you understand." Actually, I didn't know how on earth he _would_: it made no sense.

"Of course," he said, apologetically, "It's too forward of me to assume that you'd allow me to pick you up at home at this early stage of our acquaintance."

_What? _I blinked. My ridiculous request made sense to him?

"I'll be happy to meet you there, if you prefer, Rosa." He gave me a dazzling smile, "Arturo's? Say, at 7pm? Would that be all right with you?"

"Perfect!" I breathed easier, "We have a date!"

"I'm looking forward to it!" Dawson smiled.

We looked over as Teresa came back into the room, dressed in a black and silver halter-topped dress, her dark hair loose and flowing down to her waist.

I blinked: I'd never seen Teresa looking quite as glamorous! Clearly, she was going to turn a few heads with this photo shoot: I wondered if Ricardo would ever get over the shock of having not only his mother, but also his wife, posing publicly as _Babe! _models?

That Teresa was enthusiastically embracing her opportunity to act the model became clear when my daughter-in-law began to follow Tyler's directions to "make love to the camera" with her eyes. _My gracious! _Ricardo was certainly going to be quite upset once this photo of his wife hit the newsstands, that much was certain!

She continued her affair with the camera for the next 20 minutes, and I had to admit: she was most definitely _Babe! _material.

By the time she finished, and disappeared back into the dressing room to change her clothes, I was feeling quite sorry for my poor son: he wasn't going to know what hit him.

Not that he didn't have it coming, mind you. It was his own fault for coming up with this ridiculous plan of his to teach Stephanie how to cook. How he thought he was going to hide his whereabouts from my daughter-in-law on Monday nights, I had no clue. The fool probably had never even thought that far ahead! It would serve him right to have his wife hire a private detective and then have to explain what in the world he thought he was doing. But _no_--I couldn't allow that embarrassment for Stephanie: not for Carlito's sake, and not for her own. It wasn't _their _fault that Carlito's father was an idiot!

"That felt good," Teresa beamed, as she joined me moments later. "You're right, Mama: this will teach Ricardo who he's messing with! I look damned good for my age, don't I?"

Indeed. She certainly did!

I had one more errand to attend to, before we left. Dawson was busy showing Teresa the wall of advertising posters, so I took the opportunity to hand to Esther the manila envelope I'd brought with me.

"Would you be so kind as to give this to Ms. Plum, please?" I asked.

"Certainly, Ms. Garciapara," she nodded. "Oh! And I have a request here that you schedule another photo shoot for our next advertising campaign."

"_Another_ campaign?" I said, taken by surprise. "Are you certain?"

"Yes, it's quite clear: Ms. Plum personally has requested you to take part in the '_Babe_ Nation' campaign, that will hit the newsstands in late January 2009. Would that be a problem for you, Ms. Garciapara?"

"Not at all," I replied, "I'm sure I can fit you into my schedule. Let me see: when would you like me to come back?"

"Would it be possible for you to come in 2 weeks' time? That would be December 8th? Say at 11am?"

"Certainly. I can fit you in then," I smiled, jotting down the information as if I had any other place to remember being. I was so wicked!

"You're coming in again?" Dawson asked, as he and Teresa walked over to where I stood at the receptionist's desk.

"It seems I'm a hit," I couldn't resist a proud grin, "I'm wanted for the next advertising campaign!"

"Fantastic! When is your shoot scheduled?"

"December 8th, at 11am."

"Will you allow me to take you to lunch again, afterwards, Rosa?"

"_Again_?" my daughter-in-law looked archly at me.

I ignored her.

"Certainly. I'd love that, Dawson."

"Perhaps we can visit a seafood restaurant this time? Do you like seafood, Rosa?"

I did. "That would be wonderful."

Dawson took my arm and we made our way out to the hallway. I looked around for Stephanie, but saw no sign of her. Perhaps it was just as well: it wouldn't do to have Teresa meet 'the other woman', for sure! All that would have had to happen was for Stephanie to mention to me that Ricardo was teaching her how to cook on Monday nights, and all hell would break loose!

I telephoned for Pedro to come and pick us up as we stepped out of the elevator on the lobby floor. Teresa was now beaming ear-to-ear, as was I.

"When were you planning on mentioning that you'd done a photo shoot for a lingerie line, Mama?"

"I hadn't thought about it, actually."

"You _should_: Ricardo is going to have a cow!"

"Isn't he, though?"

Teresa giggled. "This is so exciting! However did you find out about this modeling campaign?"

"I saw the advertisement in the newspaper," I lied.

"And you went? Whatever were you thinking?"

"I wanted to be wicked," I confessed.

"Plus there was a handsome man involved."

"He _is_, isn't he?" I said, dreamily.

"Who just happens to speak Spanish fluently. Fortunately for you."

"Yes, it is, isn't it?"

"He took you to lunch? And you kept _that_ a secret, too!"

"I have _many_ secrets," I teased.

Little did Teresa know I spoke the truth!

"Seriously, Mama: Ricardo will not be at all pleased."

"About either one of us."

"True. I suppose I have to keep your secret now, don't I?"

"It's hardly going to be a secret when you and I are plastered all over the newsstands, Teresa!"

"That wasn't the secret I meant."

"Will you?" I asked, hopefully.

"It all depends," she said cheekily, "Just how wicked are you planning on being, Mama?"

I grinned.

Teresa giggled again, and we linked arms as we made our way to where Pedro now drove up in the car.

We were both having far too much fun being wicked!


	73. Chapter 73

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. Hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 73

"Did I miss her?" I came flying out of the elevator and headed directly for Esther's desk. She gave me a puzzled look. "_Rosa Garciapara. _Was she here already, or did I get back in time?"

"Been and gone, sorry," Esther smiled, "I gave her the envelope you left for her, and she left you one of her own. Here it is."

I snatched the manila envelope out of her hand eagerly, "Thanks, Esther. _Damn! _I was hoping to get back in time to see her, but there was an overturned tractor-trailer truck on Route 280, and it had traffic clogged up for _miles_."

"It's always on days you have somewhere else to be, isn't it?" she said, sympathetically. "I gave her your message about doing the next campaign, and she made an appointment for December 8th at 11am. Dawson was here--he's taking her to lunch after the photo shoot."

"No lunch today?" I asked, surprised.

"No, he was here though, as I said--in fact, he had me call him the second she showed up. But she brought along her daughter-in-law today, so I guess lunch was out of the question. But they _did _make dinner plans for tomorrow night!" she whispered, conspiratorially.

"Dinner is even better," I agreed, smiling. "_Wait! _She brought her daughter-in-law?"

"Yep, beautiful woman. Very striking. Mrs. Teresa Montoya. She did a photo shoot: you can go check with Miranda, the photos should be ready for review by now."

"I thought we were finished with the 'Are you a _Babe_?' photo shoots?"

"We were--they only had a re-shoot for Carla Novack planned. Because you wanted her in something other than that electric blue dress. Remember? But I think Ms. Garciapara had her heart set on having her daughter-in-law photographed, and Dawson swept in and offered her the opportunity. Good thing, too---she's really quite lovely. If I look even _half_ that good at that age, I'll be happy. So will my husband."

"Mrs. Montoya?" I repeated, "Her daughter-in-law is Mrs. _Montoya_? Not _Garciapara_?" I was puzzling this out in my head: I thought Papa's last name was Garciapara. Now it was Montoya? Unless this was _another_ daughter-in-law?

"Maiden name," Esther revealed, "_Both_ of them, actually. I heard the chit-chat between them. One of the benefits of speaking Spanish."

"Why are they using their maiden names on the photo shoot when everyone is going to see it? I mean, it's not like this is something they can keep a secret, right? Although, maybe the whole idea is to surprise their families come Christmas time?" If this was indeed Papa's wife who'd posed, he was going to be in for a _double_ shocker: his wife _and_ his mother were both going to be _Babes_. The poor guy would probably have a fit and step in it! I didn't see Papa as the type to welcome that sort of thing, somehow.

"Could be that's the reason--I couldn't say for sure, though. I just overheard them whispering back and forth. But I _can_ say that Ms. Garciapara was thrilled with her photo. And delighted at the call-back. All in all, she was walking on air when she left here. And her daughter-in-law was, too. They had ear-to-ear smiles, both of them."

"Good, glad to hear it. Is Dawson around, do you know?"

"No, actually--he's over in the factory now; he said he'd be there for the rest of the afternoon. Want me to ring him for you now?"

"Not necessary, thanks, Esther. I just wondered how my afternoon was going to be. Sounds as if it's going to be pretty quiet." I grinned, "Would you ask Miranda to have the final 'Are you a _Babe?' _advertising campaign ready for us to look at tomorrow afternoon, please? I want to get everything set, so we know for sure we have a winning campaign this time around."

"Will do. Any particular time in the afternoon you'd prefer?"

"About 2pm would be great. If you can give Tina a call to confirm---"

"No problem. Enjoy your quiet afternoon."

I laughed, tucking my manila envelope under my arm and heading back to my office. I'd had a full day, so far. I'd decided to turn one of the four bedrooms in my townhouse into a design studio, so that left me with an extra room of furniture. I'd called my Grandma Mazur, and offered the bedroom set to her and Wilbur (I had shudders just thinking of them using it--but that was neither here nor there), since the furniture I'd left behind at the apartment had been old and shabby. As I'd expected, my grandmother had eagerly accepted, and today was the date we'd set for the pick-up and delivery. Not that _I'd _have chosen today, you understand: I'd known Rosa was coming in for her proof, and I'd been hoping for a few words with her. But Wilbur's son had borrowed a truck from a friend, and he and a few of the Sneed relatives were available today to load the furniture up and make the drop-off. So today it was. _Oh, well! _I'd have another opportunity to speak with Rosa on December 8th--if not sooner!

In the meantime, I'd have--_hopefully_--another photo of Carlos to add to my growing collection! And another letter from Rosa, with more information on the man I loved, and his family. I quickened my pace, anxious to get back to my office. What would _today's_ picture be? I'd seen Carlos as a baby, as a teen, and as a young man. What had Rosa in store for me _this _time?

"There you are!" Tina's voice interrupted my musings. "Your father's on line one! He's called three times already today. Should I put the call through now?"

"Of course," I replied, my stomach tightening in alarm. My father never called repeatedly over nothing. What had my mother done _now_?

Moments later, I had the unwelcome answer.

"I can't believe she's not even speaking to me about _Thanksgiving_!" I wailed to my apologetic father, "She's left _you _to do it for her? My God, are we even sure she _wants _me to show up? For all I know, there won't even be a place at the dinner table for me this Thursday!"

Thanksgiving was less than 72 hours away, and my mother had refused to break her weeks-long silent treatment of me in order to invite me to attend. Let alone to give her usual orders as to what I was supposed to bring with me. And what I wasn't. This was _insane_!

"Of course you're welcome at our dinner table, Pumpkin! On Thanksgiving or any other time. Your mother is just being stubborn about this--and I'm _more_ than tired of it, to tell you the truth. It was bad enough when your grandmother lived here--at least she talked to Edna--but now that the old bat---I mean, your grandmother, has moved out---"

"She's not talking to _you_, either?"

"Not much. She's pissed that I took your side in all this. _I'm_ the enemy too. Not only do I have the nerve to think that you have the right to choose your own _husband_, but I'm also of the opinion that you did the smart thing by moving out of the Burg. And I'm supporting your job choice. And I'm siding with your grandmother and 'her old fossil of a boyfriend'--your mother's words--as they are making your mother's poor life 'a living hell', making her 'the mockery of the Burg by openly living in sin' Again, _her_ words, not mine."

"That _sounds _like her, all right. It's all about her, after all! God, this just _infuriates_ me no end!"

"Me too, Pumpkin. But that's your mother. Other than divorce her, what can I do?"

"You wouldn't, would you? Divorce her, I mean?"

"Never say never." There was a long pause. "That was supposed to be a joke, Steph."

"Was it?"

"I think so. Sometimes I'm not sure. Particularly when I overhear her yapping to Valerie that she needs to give that sorry excuse for a husband of hers 'room to grow'. Or some other kind of crap. The gist of which is--ignore his catting around and it will go away. Why the hell Valerie listens to her, I have no clue."

"Probably because she _wants_ to ignore it--Mom's giving her the perfect excuse to keep her head in the sand. _I_ told her to get a lawyer and sue the bastard. That was the last time she called _me_."

"You were smart, Pumpkin. I tried to do the same thing--your mother yanked the phone out of my hand. Even your grandmother tried telling your sister that she was making a huge mistake. But Valerie's only taking your mother's advice, sorry to say."

"Well, let's hope it turns out better than I expect it will. For the girls' sake, at least."

"We both know it _won't_. But until it all goes to hell in a hand basket, I guess Valerie will continue to play ostrich. So? You _are_ coming on Thursday, right? Your mother's foolishness hasn't scared you off?"

"I'll be there. Is Grandma coming too? I forgot to ask her."

"She's coming--and she's bringing Wilbur, as well. At least we'll have _some _conversation at the dinner table."

"The usual time?"

Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner at the Plum household were _always_ at 3pm sharp. It was as fixed a rule as the 6pm one was for any other day.

"Yep. Don't bring anything but yourself, Pumpkin. Ellen's got me picking up pumpkin and apple pies at the Tasty Pastry, as well as fresh rolls. And I've got wine. And Lord knows, I plan to indulge. Getting blotto might be the best solution to things."

"_Dad_--"

"Another joke."

"Hah, hah."

"I've got a few bottles. You can join me."

"You don't think---I mean, she _wouldn't_, would she? Do you think? Invite Joe Morelli?"

"I'm one step ahead of you, honey: I already flat-out told her that if Morelli shows up, you and I were headed to Pino's for dinner. And I _mean_ it."

"Thanks, Dad. I think she's gotten the message--but with Mom, you never know."

"She heard _this_ message loud and clear. I warned her, and she knows I'll _do_ it, too. That would totally humiliate her in the Burg: having her husband and daughter boycott her Thanksgiving dinner! It's the most fool-proof way I could think of to keep her from hatching _another_ scheme with Angie Morelli. That old shrew. Having _her_ for an in-law alone would be a reason to steer clear of Morelli. As if there aren't dozens of other reasons already."

"I'm sorry to put you in this position, Daddy."

"You didn't put me in any position, Pumpkin. That was solely your mother's doing. But she's just as miserable, trust me: I'm used to not talking; she isn't. This whole thing is driving her _nuts_! It won't be much longer before she cracks and the whole silent-treatment thing ends once and for all. I'm kind of enjoying it, while it lasts."

"I love you, Daddy. I don't say it enough, but I do."

"You say it plenty. And I love you too, Pumpkin. Have a good one. See you on Thursday."

"I'll be there. Thanks for calling."

I hung up, sighing, and shook my head in amazement at my mother's pettiness. In truth, I hadn't been looking forward to Thanksgiving because I expected more fall-out from her unhappiness at my life choices. But we were family, after all, so it had never occurred to me not to show up for Thanksgiving dinner. The fact that my mother couldn't put her differences with me aside long enough to invite me---well, that said _volumes_, didn't it? It was going to be a very unpleasant meal, I was almost certain of it.

And I wasn't willing to guarantee that we wouldn't end up at Pino's, either.

But that was Thursday. Today was Monday. And I had a letter from Rosa to read, and hopefully another photo of Carlos to enjoy!

I'd taken a page out of her book by leaving a letter and a photo of my own for Rosa, knowing she was scheduled to turn up to pick up her proof today. I had found a photo of myself as a baby, and tucked it into an envelope together with a short letter of thanks to her.

_Dear Rosa,_

_You will never really know, I think, how much your letters and your beautiful photos of dear Carlos mean to me. How very much I look forward to receiving them, and learning more of the man that we both love. I can never thank you enough for the kindness that you have shown me by sharing your loving memories of Carlos with me, and helping me to feel closer to him as I wait impatiently for our April 6, 2010 reunion._

_Truly, without your letters and photos to look forward to, I would be lost: I have only a few photos of Carlos, and I have all but worn them out staring at them non-stop and wishing for his return. We had the shortest of times together. It was enough to make wonderful memories--but not enough to learn all that I want to know of the special man that I will one day be able to call my husband. Your thoughtfulness has given me the missing pieces, and again I say thank you. I am tremendously grateful to you!_

_As you have said, Carlos was the most adorable of babies, and your photo is the absolute proof of that. I have gazed at the photo endlessly, picturing him in my mind at that age, dragging his little stuffed animal Blackie along with him, and getting into one thing after another! I have also, I confess, pictured our children--Carlos' and mine--and hoped that they would have their father's warm chocolate eyes and his dark silken hair. I could not think of anything that would be better than having several miniature versions of Carlos scampering around the townhouse--unless it is having their father himself back in my arms again._

_Knowing that you too picture Carlos's future children in your mind's eye, I have enclosed a photo of myself as a baby. Should the children be a blend of Carlos and myself, you will now know what to expect! I have already decided that, if God blesses us with a girl, I shall give her the middle name of Rosa, in tribute to the very special woman who has made my life so much brighter on those lonely and dark Winter nights. I know Carlos will be proud and happy to have his daughter bear your name, as well!_

_I am also quite pleased that you have chosen to do the photo shoot, and that you will allow us to feature your photograph in our advertising campaign. I don't think you had any idea what you were getting yourself into when you chose to stop in to visit that day--but I hope that you are as delighted as I am with the results of your photo shoot! Even if you hadn't been my newest friend--and you are--I would still be most anxious for you to participate in the advertising campaign, based on that stunning photograph of yours! I hope your family is supportive of your decision to model; I would hate to think that I had caused any discomfort for you in any way._

_I hope that I will be back from my errand in time to hand you this letter in person. If not, please know that I wanted to be. And please know that whenever you are free to sit down over tea and talk about, as you say, 'the man we both love', I will be more than happy to spend time with you._

_My door--that in my office, as well as in my home--is always open to you. Please feel welcome to visit any time in future. Have a wonderful Thanksgiving._

_And again, many thanks to you for all you've done for me._

_Your new friend,_

_Stephanie_

I thought that Rosa would be pleased with the baby photograph, and I hoped as well that she would take me up on my invitation to stop by and have tea with me. I knew she had my home address, and I was praying that one day she would stop in and we could spend some time together talking and getting to know one another better.

I wondered if she had been surprised to have a letter waiting for her?

Smiling, I carefully slid my finger into the flap and tore open the envelope, anxious to see what today's photo was.

Never in a million years would I have expected what I found, however!

_Dearest Stephanie,_

_I have you to thank for allowing me to spend many happy hours pouring over my family's photo albums, and reliving the happy memories of past days. I was looking for a photo to send to you today, on a day when I am so happily looking forward to picking up the photograph of myself as a Babe! model. My gracious, child, you have no idea how excited you have made this old woman! To think that I have the privilege of being a part of your exciting advertising for your lovely lingerie---it thrills me to pieces, truly! I have been counting the days until the proof was ready for my hands, and I have been beaming like a fool for days, knowing my little secret was safe in your hands!_

_I think I told you that my late husband ruled his house with an iron fist. There was no way on earth that a woman would ever hold a job in his household. None. Thus it was that I went from the convent school to my marriage, and never worked at a paid job a day in my life. Never--until last week, that is! To have the opportunity to model was thrill enough---to have a professional make-up artist work her magic on this old face--but then, to be earning my first paycheck, as well! I was beyond excited!_

_I hope I don't cause you any problems, child: I must confess to you that I do not plan to cash your check. I don't wish to mess up your bank records. But honestly, I plan to save the paycheck and tuck it away as a prized memento of my deliciously wicked adventure! _

_The day was beyond my wildest dreams in so many ways, from start to finish. And I have you to thank for giving me the opportunity to fulfill a secret fantasy of mine: to be a glamorous celebrity! For indeed, once the photograph is printed in the magazine, I shall indeed be a celebrity, shall I not? My family will not know what to make of it, I am delighted to tell you! My grandchildren will be so proud of their grandmother the celebrity, and my son, well--we shall see, shall we not? _

_My daughter-in-law will be envious of me, that I have no doubt. She too will wish to be a Babe! But only I have that exciting privilege. As for my son…well, it is time that he sees his mother reclaiming her power, and starting to live her life as she herself wishes, not as someone else wishes her to. I welcome the chance to do so! Don't worry, child: he will make a fuss, but I am ready for him. I was used to his tantrums as a little boy. I ignored him then, as I plan to ignore him now._

_What I will not ignore, however, is the feeling that you have given me that I am special! I look forward to seeing your face when I bring an envelope by for you. Your whole face lights up in joy and your blue eyes sparkle as you make a feverish grab for the envelope and barely resist tearing it open right in front of me! How it does my heart proud to see that I can give such pleasure to you. And that you are so much in love with my dear Carlos!_

_I could not resist selecting for you this particular photo of baby Carlito. He has always had a fascination with Superman from an early age, as I suspect he has told you himself. In fact, his Army friends, they all call him 'Superman', he boasts proudly. I am certain he would be bereft if they did not, truth be told! The man does think of himself as larger than life: he is very brave as a soldier, this I know for a fact. He has several medals--I myself have seen them, although he will not speak of how he earned them. Perhaps one day he will tell you the stories, although I doubt it: he is very modest, and his job is very dangerous. He would not have you worry, but will always smile and remind you that he is called Superman for a reason, yes? _

_This was perhaps his first brush as a superhero, back when Carlos dressed up for Halloween as a toddler. He selected the costume himself, or so I was told by his Mama! He must have taken a fancy to the bright colors, I suspect. But regardless, I remember she told me that he yanked the costume off the counter, and cried until she allowed him to put it on, right then and there in the store! And he did not wear it just for Halloween, mind you! No, little Carlos insisted on wearing the costume for several days running, until his exasperated Mama finally grew tired of his tantrums and put it in the wash. That was one time when Carlito's charm failed to work on a woman. Probably the only time, yes?_

_But I wish you to remember that while he is gone at war, doing his dangerous job, that he is strong and smart and brave. And he is indeed Superman. He will be back safe and well, and when he returns you may tease him mercilessly about all the photographs I have given you. Photographs that he did not know I kept, and that he will blush to think that I have shared with you. Carlos is not one for taking photographs--I suspect you had to coax him to pose for you, did you not? But then, perhaps he did so willingly for you, knowing that you would take great comfort from them while he was gone. He is the most thoughtful of all men, after all._

_I close this letter with deep thanks to you for bringing my dear boy such happiness, and for sharing your adventures with this old lady who smiles even now to think of how exciting it will be to one day (God willing) hold his son or daughter in my arms. And to know that I myself will be in many many magazines as a glamorous Babe! _

_God bless you, child._

_Your friend always,_

_Rosa_

I wiped a tear away, then re-read her lovely letter again. I was so sorry to have missed her visit, but I hoped that my invitation in my letter would encourage her to pay me a visit soon.

I grinned, picturing Carlos petulantly demanding to be allowed to wear his Superman costume daily….Rosa's revelations made me come to know him even better, and I found it easy to imagine that he had managed to convince his mother to dress him in the costume right there in the store! Good Lord, the man had convinced _me _to do all sorts of things I would never have imagined myself capable of---best I not think about that here and now!

No doubt I would still have been staring starry-eyed at the photo of Carlos if not for the fact that my telephone shrilly rang me out of my stupor. Sighing, I pushed the letter and the photograph back into the envelope, and concentrated again on being a working woman. I had a long afternoon in store for myself…

_To see the photos of baby Steph and baby Carlos as Superman, check the TNH photo album. The link is in My Profile!_


	74. Chapter 74

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. Hope you enjoy!_

_Again, assume that Rosa is speaking Spanish…_

Chapter 74

_Ricardo's POV_

It once again was Monday, and thus I showed up at Estefanía's at 6:30pm on the dot, prepared to teach her how to cook her favorite papas rellenas with barbequed chicken, Cuban style. I had left her with a detailed shopping list when we'd parted company last week, and I knew from our earlier phone call this afternoon that she had stocked up in readiness for her lesson tonight.

She greeted me warmly, and offered me my favorite Bucanero Max Cuban beer. "This is the brand you serve at _Rosa's_, isn't it? Mateo always orders it whenever we eat there. He says you turned him on to it--I thought you might enjoy some this evening."

"Very thoughtful of you," I smiled, "It is indeed my favorite." I gratefully took a thirsty mouthful or two, and then got down to the serious business of teaching her how to cook Cuban food as only a true professional chef could do.

Estefanía was an excellent student, proving her earlier words that she was taking this opportunity to learn quite seriously. We moved around the kitchen preparing the meal while having a friendly conversation, as I answered all her questions and watched her intelligent eyes process my answers.

We were interrupted several times during the course of the evening by the repeated ringing of my cell phone. Each time, it was Teresa's specialized ring tone. I excused myself time and again, stepping out of the kitchen to exchange a few brief words with my wife, who was uncharacteristically chatty tonight.

But at least I had grown a brain since last week--thanks to my Mama's annoyed warning to me, moments before I'd left the house earlier today!

She had pulled me aside at the door, and given me a stern glare. "Do us all a favor tonight, mi hijo! Answer your telephone when your dear wife calls you at _Rosa's_ this evening, as I know she will! Do not let us have a repeat of last week when Teresa called you there and the phone rang on and on with no reply."

I'd felt my stomach tighten. "She called me at _Rosa's_ last Monday evening?"

"Si. She wanted you to stop at the pharmacy on the way home for her prescription refill," my mother had nodded, "And you did not answer the phone. Then when she questioned you later in the evening, you told her all was well at _Rosa's_ and made no mention of her phone call."

I had no words. What on earth was I to say, after all? How was I to have anticipated that after all the Monday evenings she had not called once, my wife would pick the single evening I was _not_ there to decide to telephone me? I truly was the most unlucky of men!

My Mama had given me a strict look, "Do not put my poor nerves through any more of Teresa's foolish drama, Ricardo! Use your thick head for something other than a hat rack, si? If you are not going to be at the restaurant tonight, _tell her_!"

"Of course I will be at the restaurant, Mama!" I'd said, not able to meet her eyes, "Where else would I be this evening, after all? I am on my way there now, as I have said."

"_AHHHH! _You are an _idioto_! I do not know whose genes you have in you, hijo. Certainly not _mine_! This I blame on your late Papa! The male genes for stupidity he has given you in abundance, for certain! I myself have no time for this ridiculousness of yours--either of you! I dine out tonight! I must ready myself."

I'd opened my mouth to protest her harsh words, but my disgusted Mama had already vanished, and I'd been left alone in the foyer feeling more than foolish.

Truly my Mama was getting quite bold as of late--I did not know where she was learning this distinctly unfeminine behavior! My late Papa for one would not have been pleased at her response to me. Calling her own son an idiot? There was no excuse for that--_none_! And what of all her all-too-frequent dinner appointments of late? She was quite the social butterfly suddenly! I did not like it--not at all. I wondered at this behavior of hers: it was most uncharacteristic of her!

But at least she had given me something to think about! This I would fix--in more ways than one! I'd walked back into the kitchen, where Teresa was making out our weekly grocery list for her shopping in the morning. I'd given her a friendly smile, getting a blank face in return. Teresa had not been in a friendly mood, as of late. Either in or out of the bedroom. Much to my chagrin.

"I hope I do not have last week's bad luck at the restaurant tonight," I'd remarked, seemingly idly, seeing Teresa's dark eyes look over to me questioningly. "I was the most ill-starred of men last Monday night, I'm afraid," I'd sighed dramatically. "I tried to use my office printer to do some work, before I began to cook as I usually do. Unfortunately, I discovered that the ink cartridge was empty. I could not get my documents to print satisfactorily. I then opened the cabinet, expecting to find a stock of replacement cartridges--only to remember that I had neglected to order a new supply."

"What did you do?" had come her soft response.

"Ah! As to that! I had to make the quick run out to Staples, naturally! I needed to print my paperwork, certainly! It was quite distressing. I hit traffic and sat on the highway wasting my valuable time."

"You did not mention this when I spoke with you later that evening."

"I did not wish to go into it," I'd lied, "It was an annoyance I tried to brush out of my mind, you understand. But I hope that tonight is uneventful. I do so look forward to having my quiet evenings at the restaurant undisturbed."

"Yes, I know you do," she'd said softly, "I hope all goes well for you tonight, Ricardo."

"I am certain it shall, Teresa. Is that a new frock? You look quite lovely today."

"It is not new," she'd brushed off my compliment, "I've had it for quite some time."

"Still--you look lovely today, my dear. As you always do. I do not tell you enough."

She'd examined me closely, "You have said so often as of late, however. Indeed, you have been very attentive."

"As is your due, my love. Perhaps I have finally realized it."

"Perhaps you have," had come her slow reply, "We shall see, shall we not?"

I'd had no idea what to make of that, so instead I'd given her a bright smile and leaned in for a kiss. Teresa had turned her head at the last minute, and my kiss had landed on her cheek.

"Have a pleasant evening." She'd given me a sad smile.

"I shall," I'd replied, "What shall you do?"

"Perhaps I shall call Celia," my wife had shrugged, "Or perhaps not. I may take a warm bath and then do some reading. Your mother dines out tonight, so I am left to my own devices."

"Indeed. She has many appointments of late, has she not?"

"She has. Rosa is quite busy." Teresa did not meet my eyes, "She seems quite happy, have you not noticed?"

I'd frowned, "She seems quite _something_, for sure. I have not yet decided what. I shall need to think on it more to decide."

Teresa had laughed--an odd laugh that had left me wondering what she knew that I did not. "Your mother would be _amused_ to hear you say so, Ricardo. You will let us both know--your mother and I--when _you_ decide what she is, shall you not?"

"It is just a manner of speech," I'd defended myself, "Have you not noticed yourself that she is not behaving normally these days?"

"As to what is _normal_--who can say?" she'd said, quite mysteriously. "She is _happy_, that is all that matters. We love her: we should be _pleased _she is happy, not question _why_."

"I do _not_ question why," I'd said, unable to determine how the devil I'd been drawn into the conversation and ended up in the wrong, _again_. I swear--if I lived to be one hundred, I would _never_ understand a woman's mind! "I wish my Mama to be happy, certainly. I just remarked that it is unusual for her to---oh, _never mind_! I do not mean to argue the matter with you, Teresa! I am running late for the restaurant."

"Oh, as to _that_: you must hustle out the door, then! God knows, you can't be a minute late, can you?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing. I mean nothing. I _never_ mean anything. I have a headache, after all! I think I shall retire early tonight."

"Your headaches come frequently of late, Teresa. Perhaps you need to see a doctor."

"Perhaps I _do_. Perhaps _I_ am not normal, either, Ricardo. Perhaps you need to think on _that_ for a bit and decide what it means and then let me know!"

For the _second_ time that evening, I'd seen the back of a woman I'd been speaking with. Again I'd been left standing alone! Shaking my head in confusion, I'd left the house and put my new plan into effect.

My Mama's warning had decided me: I would drive first to _Rosa's_, then on to Estefanía's townhouse. At _Rosa's_, I would turn the lights on, lest anyone notice that it appeared unoccupied and mention it to Teresa! I would be _especially_ smart, from this night on! I would program my telephone so that the calls that came into my office--and the restaurant itself--would go directly to my cell phone! That way I would be aware should Teresa call again. Never again would I be taken by surprise, and be caught in a lie!

I congratulated myself on my ingenious plan, which to me seemed fool-proof. I would have to stop by the restaurant again after my visit to Estefanía's, in order to shut the lights off and re-program the telephones. It was an inconvenience, certainly--but it would be worth it, not to have to worry about missing another call from Teresa!

The plan had served me well tonight, because Teresa had called not once, not twice, but _three _times in total! Each time she had brushed off the reason for her call, apologizing for her repeated forgetfulness--but clearly she had been relieved to be able to reach me this week! I wondered what Estefanía thought, with me running out of the room like a yo-yo each time my phone rang. _Dios mio! _It was to be hoped that tonight would reassure my wife and that this unpleasant conduct of hers would not be repeated on successive Monday evenings. Heaven knows, my nerves could not stand any more of this drama!

"Did you bring the catering menu with you tonight, as you promised, Papa?" Estefanía now asked, as I stirred the simmering chicken on the stovetop, and she concentrated on setting the table for our meal. "I'm curious what my options are for entrees at the reception."

"Your options--as you call it--are _unlimited_," I said expansively, "I shall make any type of food you wish for your special day, my child. But, to answer your question, _yes_, I did bring the menu with me. I had hoped we could begin planning the menu, although it is quite far in advance still. I confess to being excited about the occasion."

"You've known Carlos, I think you said, all his life?"

"Since he was a tiny baby. Although I expect that it is hard for you to imagine Carlos as a baby, is it not, Estefanía?"

"Perhaps not as hard as you might think, Papa," she smiled.

"What do you mean?"

"Ah--I'm being mysterious. I just meant, I have a good imagination."

"Indeed. How else can you create the beautiful lingerie, yes? You must have a very skilled imagination. Did I tell you that I purchased some of your _Babe! _lingerie for my lovely wife Teresa?"

"No, you did not. How wonderful! What did she think? Was she happy with her gift?"

"Of course, child. What woman is not happy when her man shows her that he cares for her? Is that not what you told me last week?"

"Oh, yes! I _did_ say that, didn't I? Because I was telling you how thoughtful Carlos was!"

"Indeed. And what have you received since last we spoke, Estefanía? Another car, perhaps?" I teased.

"One Porsche is more than enough," she giggled. "It was a dessert week this time--so I got the most delicious chocolate mousse cake. I still have almost half of it left, so we can have it for dessert as we discuss the reception."

"Excellent! Dipaolo Bros. make the most sinfully decadent chocolate mousse cake I have ever had the good fortune of tasting! Truly Carlos chose well when he selected that bakery to distribute your desserts!"

"Did I tell you that they will be making our wedding cake?" she bubbled happily, "I've been looking at magazines for weeks, tearing out photos of what I like--and I can't wait to sit down with Mario and decide on the cake! As I said last week, I'm just waiting for the annulment to come through first. And then I can fly into action and start making all the wedding plans! I'm also going to design my own wedding gown!"

"You can do this?" I asked in wonderment, "Design your own gown? This is quite an accomplishment, Estefanía! I remember all four of my daughters drove my dear Teresa and I crazy over the selection of their wedding gowns. They looked long and hard, each of them, trying on dress upon dress, looking for the most perfect gown. This I _heard about_, you understand, but thankfully _I_ did not have to endure it first-hand. That was women's work--Teresa and my Mama had the patience of saints, I think. But if my daughters had been able to design their own gowns, the stress and strain would have been lifted, yes? Because nothing they ever found was exactly what their mind's eye had seen. Or so I was told, more often than I want to remember."

"_Exactly_, Papa! I had the very same problem; that is why I came up with the idea of sketching my own gown. It's very exciting--you are the first I have told the news to: my partner Dawson caught me sketching in my office this morning. He thought at first that I was designing more lingerie, but when I told him that I've been doing sketches of the gown, he volunteered to use his contacts in the fashion industry to have my gown made for me! Isn't that thrilling? Now I know for certain I will have _exactly_ what I want when I march down the aisle to become Carlos' wife!"

"I am quite pleased you are happy, Estefanía. This partner of yours, he does a good thing."

"He's a very good man. Dawson has been extraordinarily generous to me, he is a true friend. As are you, Papa! I am quite fortunate to have been blessed in this way."

I smiled, "I am honored to be your true friend, dear child. I too think of you as a true friend. One that is, perhaps, quite hungry?"

"_Always_," she assured me, as we sat down to eat. "I can't believe it, but it actually tastes better when you know you've made it with your own hands, doesn't it?"

"It does," I assured her, "And you have done quite well, once again. I think you have a talent for cooking, as you have for design."

"I wouldn't go _that_ far," she said, wryly, "What I have, is a talent for following directions! I wonder if I will be quite so successful when you are not available in the kitchen!"

"I shall _always_ be available for the instruction--I have written the recipes out on cards," I replied, "And when you are ready, you need only pull out the cards and follow the directions and hear my voice in your head telling you what to do next. It will be easy for you that way, yes?"

"Perfect! You know, I can't wait to thank you and Mateo--and even Alejandro--for your kindness to me by having you all--and your wives--and your dear Mama--over for dinner one evening, Papa! And I will cook a complete Cuban meal for you all, and---"

I started choking then, my chicken going down my windpipe as leaden as a cement block. _Dios mio! _This above all else I could not allow to happen! Carlos' mother and grandmother--as well as Alejandro and Mateo's wives--breaking bread with his woman. Asking questions. Discussing her upcoming wedding to a man they all knew all too well….

My goose--as they say--would be well and truly cooked for certain!

"Are you okay?" Estefanía asked in concern.

"I am _fine_," I took a quick mouthful of beer, and did my best to push the frightening thought out of my mind. This I would have to discuss with my nephew and my son: we needed to have a plan in mind should this disaster arise in future!

Just then, my phone rang. _Again. _I recognized the personalized ring tone of my wife Teresa, and sighed unhappily. I would need to take this call _again_--and to do so privately _again_, lest she overhear Estefanía's voice and realize that I was not where I claimed to be--in my beloved restaurant, trying out new recipes!

"Excuse me," I said apologetically, "I must step out of the kitchen to answer this call. I ask one more time please a few moments of your silence, Estefanía!"

I moved into the family room and, lowering my voice, I took my lovely wife's call once more.

"Yes, querida?" I asked. "Is everything all right with you, Teresa?"

There was a long pause. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"You don't normally call me on Monday evenings, my love. And tonight you have called four times now."

"You are counting? Is this a big problem for you, Ricardo? Do I disturb your cooking with my constant nagging phone calls?"

"Certainly not, my dear. I'm happy you've called."

"Really?" She said--rather clipped, I thought. But I must have imagined that!

"Certainly. You have the most dulcet of all tones, Teresa. I was thinking of you, and I am more than happy to have your voice now remind me of how fortunate I am to have you as my fair spouse and life's companion."

"Have you been drinking, Ricardo?" she asked, suspiciously.

"Of course not," I lied, the taste of the Bucanero Max beer still fresh in my mouth. "Why would you say so?"

"You don't sound like yourself, is all."

"I'm most certainly myself, my love. Whoever else would I be, pray tell?"

"That only you can say, my husband. I wondered if you would possibly bring me home a taste of whatever delicious food you have cooked for yourself tonight? As you know, your dear Mama has dined out yet again tonight, and I did not think it worth cooking for only myself. Now I am quite hungry--but I am also curious as to what you have chosen to make tonight. No one can cook quite as excellently as you, dear Ricardo. Would it be possible for you to do this for me?"

"Of course, Teresa! I'd be more than happy to! It is barbequed chicken, I have played with a new spice rub and am most pleased with the result. Is this a meal that will please you, my love?"

Fortunately we had quite a bit of the chicken left--I did not exactly know how to explain to Estefanía why I was planning to leave tonight carrying her leftovers with me--but I was desperate not to (as they say) 'upset the apple-cart' with Teresa. I would think of some excuse or another to give to Estefanía.

My quick reply in the affirmative had clearly relieved my dear wife's mind. "Yes--yes, of course, it is exactly what I have felt like and did not know it, Ricardo. I don't want to be a bother to you---"

"You of all people are never a bother, querida. I would be more than happy to satisfy your appetite. In every way possible, my lovely flower," I flirted rakishly. I was really getting quite good at this romantic thing, now that I had the hang of it!

My sweet wife took a quick breath, quickly devising my double meaning.

"The barbequed chicken is enough, thank you. I'll leave you to your cooking now, Ricardo. I shall not call again. Please don't forget."

"Certainly you of all women are quite unforgettable, my love," I replied, deepening my voice. "I'll see you later."

"Goodnight," came her soft reply. "I'll be waiting. Don't be too late."

"I shall fly home on the wings of the dove," I replied. But there was no reply: Teresa had already disconnected.

I made my way into the kitchen, where Estefanía waited curiously.

"Is everything all right, Papa?"

"It is, dear child. That was my lovely wife Teresa. Again. I'm afraid I have a most unusual request---"

"What is it?"

"Teresa tells me that she is quite hungry and has not cooked anything for dinner. My mother has again dined out tonight--she is the most busy of social butterflies as of late, it seems--"

Estefanía grinned, "Really? Good for her."

"Yes, yes, of course," I sighed dramatically, "It is indeed--of course I am happy that my dear Mama does not lack for companionship, certainly. But this leaves Teresa with no one to keep her company and so, as I said, she has not bothered to cook dinner for herself. Now she is hungry, and I was quite forward and suggested that perhaps she might enjoy some barbequed chicken--"

"Of course! We have _plenty_!" she assured me, "I've been popping papas rellenas like they were popcorn, so we have only a few of those left---"

"The chicken is more than enough, Estefanía," I smiled, my mind relieved, "I feel quite rude taking your food with me when you have purchased it--"

"Nonsense! Your wife is hungry, and we have more than enough to share! Fortunately we made extra. I feel so guilty now, depriving your wife of your company on your only evening off! And here she is, all alone! Perhaps you should leave the menu with me and we will discuss the reception some other time?"

I considered the matter seriously. "If you would not mind, perhaps that is best, Estefanía," I decided. "Teresa has been quite moody of late. I confess, I am a bit puzzled as to why she has been behaving as she has in the last week. I thought at first that she was unwell. But she assures me that is not the case. Happily. But still--something clearly troubles my dear wife and it might be best if I went home early tonight to attend to her."

"Certainly! Although--" she seemed to hesitate a bit, then smiled, "Perhaps she is just missing your company?"

"Perhaps," I smiled, "May I speak openly, Estefanía? Would you lend me your feminine intuition to explain to me the workings of the female mind? I confess I am most puzzled by why my wife has been behaving as she has."

"If I can, of course! What is the problem, Papa?"

I paused, not certain where to begin--or how best to explain what had been happening that so puzzled me. "I have taken to heart your words from last week, Estefanía. About making one's woman know she is loved by doing romantic things for her. As your Carlos does for you. This I confess I did not always do for Teresa, although I am certain that my wife knows she is loved, you understand."

"Yes? I mean--_yes_! Of course, I am sure she does. But what kinds of romantic things are you talking about, Papa?"

"I do not know where to start," I sighed, "I told you that I have purchased her the pretty lingerie you have designed. Indeed, I also ordered her flowers. Her favorite flowers--purple irises. I made a special order last Tuesday morning, after we had discussed things on Monday night."

"Good for you! But--didn't your wife like the flowers?"

"She seemed to, certainly. She said thank you. Then she asked what the special occasion was, and I told her there was none--other than to see her happy because I loved her. This pleased her."

"No doubt. But I'm not seeing the problem?"

"I stopped at the mall that afternoon and bought her the most lovely golden earrings, as well. And I wrapped them and placed them on her pillow Tuesday evening, together with the wrapped lingerie."

"You did all this in _one_ day? Flowers, lingerie _and _earrings?" Estefanía looked incredulous.

"I did," I said proudly, "And I wrote the most romantic of poems!"

She gave me a long look, saying nothing.

"Well," I qualified it, "At least I copied the poem that William Blake had written. That counts, _yes_?"

"And you did this all at once? Out of the blue?" Estefanía looked troubled.

I froze. "I was not supposed to do so?" _Damn! _This romantic stuff had _rules_? Who knew? And how was a man supposed to guess what they were, anyway? How had my son learned this?

"Let me guess, Papa: your wife is not happy, as you expect her to be. Instead, she is cool and distant? Or perhaps suspicious and a bit angry?"

"Indeed, she is--a little of both," I groaned, "I have been knocking myself out to be as romantic as I possibly can. Truly. I have been leaving love poems all over the house, in places she would least expect to find them. I have been quite attentive to all her needs, I think. But Teresa seems not as happy as she was when first I began this romantic crusade of mine. I am quite beside myself. I know not what else to do to make her happy!"

"Oh, Papa," she shook her head sadly, "I don't think you're going to like what I'm going to tell you next."

"Am I not?" I sank into the chair, bracing myself for the worst.

"Teresa probably thinks you're seeing another woman."

"What? No! _No! _How can this be?" I groaned, never in a million years having thought of that explanation!

"You have to think like a _woman_ does," she explained, "Her man suddenly is going overboard in the romance department. Behaving completely unlike himself. After--how many years did you say you were married?"

"38."

"There you go--she thinks you're cheating on her. And feeling guilty about it. So she thinks you're trying to relieve your guilt--and divert her suspicions--by giving her flowers and jewelry and lingerie--"

"And chocolates," I confessed sadly.

"And _chocolates_?"

"Godiva. Like Carlos gave you." I was the most miserable of men. "And the bear too."

"_You gave your wife an 'I love you' bear_?" Estefanía looked stunned. Much like Teresa had when I had presented her with it two nights ago, now that I think of it.

"I did." I closed my eyes, "I have made a complete mess of this. I am not cut out to be like Carlos."

"No one is--don't feel too badly about it, Papa," Estefanía patted my hand, comfortingly. "Let me guess the rest: the frequent phone calls tonight were all from your wife? Yes?"

I nodded. "Trying to see if you were with your other woman, most definitely. Where does she think you are?"

"At the restaurant, playing with recipes," I confessed, "This was my usual habit on Monday nights, as I think I have told you."

"Why didn't you tell her you were teaching me to cook?"

"I did not think," I shrugged.

"Or more likely, you did not want to explain yourself to her," Estefanía sighed, more right than she knew.

I certainly could _not_ tell Teresa where I was or what I was doing on Monday nights. And I was bound and determined not to call a halt to my cooking lessons, just when it was bearing fruit and Estefanía had told me that she thought of me as a true friend!

"You are in a real pickle, you know," came her assessment. "I think you need to come clean with your wife, before you get into any more trouble. Tell her the truth."

"About what?"

"About everything! Where you've been. What you've been doing. Why you've suddenly decided to get so romantic."

"I can not. This is not possible."

"Why not?"

I exhaled, "It is complicated."

"Men always say that when they don't want to explain their true reasons."

"Women say it too," I defended myself.

"Regardless of _who_ says it and _why_--you need to level with your wife. And I think you need to go home now and spend the next few Monday nights with _Teresa_, not with _me_."

I considered the matter carefully, "To throw her off the scent, you mean? That is a good plan."

Estefanía looked at me like I'd grown two heads. "You're _scaring_ me, Papa! _Not_ to throw her off the scent--to keep yourself from landing in hot water with a wife who thinks you are stepping out on her! I'd rather not know how to cook than be the cause of you and Teresa having marriage problems!"

"There will be no marriage problems," I assured her, "I have you to thank for waking me up to the problem! I shall slow down the romantic gestures, I think. Perhaps go back to how I did things before." God knows it would be easier on my nerves…

"Maybe you need to just dial it down a notch or two," came her considered reply, "Perhaps you can settle on a middle-ground? Don't try to do 38 years of wooing on one day! And more importantly than giving presents--give your wife your time! She'd much rather have you take her out to dinner, I suspect, than gift her with an 'I love you' bear!"

"She indeed did not get the point of the poor bear," I sighed. "Nor did I, I confess. Carlos had success with the bear?"

I grinned, "He did. But Carlos is Carlos. You are Papa. That is the difference. Hey! I never asked you before--I keep calling you Papa! What is your given name, anyway?"

I froze again, not having expected that question at all! "Rico." I said, blurting it out. Not my real name--too much danger of her remembering that Carlos' father's name was Ricardo. I gave Estefanía my old nick-name instead. Indeed, I hadn't been called Rico in years. Since grade school.

"Rico? Okay, here's the thing, Rico: you have to be _you_, not Carlos! _You_ are who your wife fell in love with. _You_ are who she is married to. _Rico_, not _Carlos_. If you try too hard to be someone other than you are, neither you nor your wife will be happy. Does that make any sense at all?"

"Yes, it makes a lot of sense," I sighed, "I think I will go home now and be Rico for my Teresa. And if it is all right with you, I will take next Monday night off."

"Take the next _few_ Monday nights off," Estefanía said, firmly. "I've managed not to cook for the last 27 years, I can manage to survive a few more Mondays as well. I'll practice beef empanadas and papas rellenas and barbequed chicken, and by the time you visit me again here, I shall not need your recipe cards--how about that?"

"I shall return later in December, I think," I said, determinedly, "I shall call you and let you know how things go."

"Please do. But for tonight--take your chicken home to your wife, Rico," she reminded me, with a smile, "And don't be such an over-achiever in the romance department."

I wrapped the chicken carefully, as I reflected on her wisdom. Truly my son was a most fortunate man! "I am glad that I decided to open my heart up to you, Estefanía. You have saved me from making a complete mess of things with my Teresa, most assuredly."

"I'm glad," she replied, "It's the least I can do for a man who feeds me as well as you have."

I headed home, determined to drive my wife's insecurities out of her head and focus instead on convincing her that she was the only woman I wanted in my life.

Perhaps I could get Estefanía's advice on some later date on my new problems with Alejandro? Things between my son and I were strained since I had decided to sit him down and question whether or not he was happy working at the restaurant.

Instead of opening his heart to me, as I'd expected, my elder son had returned my question with one of his own.

"Aren't you happy with my work here?"

"Of course I'm happy with your work. That is not what I asked you, my son."

"Why then do you question me so oddly, Papa?"

"I wished to discover if it gives you fulfillment to work as a chef at _Rosa's_."

"That is a most odd question to ask."

"Indeed, perhaps it is. But that is my question to you, Alejandro. And I need you to reflect quite carefully upon my question and give me an honest answer. I will not be offended if you admit that it does not."

"Excuse me?"

"If you do not wish to work at _Rosa's_, you need to tell me so, and I'll make other arrangements. I will, perhaps, take over cooking here a few nights a week, so you may have time to devote to yourself and your family."

"You want to take over your chef's duties once again?"

"Indeed, I would not mind doing so, if that is your preference, Alejandro."

"This has something to do with my taking all that time off while I was ill with the flu? You have decided that you can run the kitchen better than I? You wish me to step down as chef of _Rosa's_?"

"I said nothing of the sort, my son," I protested, "I merely offered to take on your duties a few nights a week in order to give you more time with your family."

"Why do you think I need more time with my family, Papa? Am I not meeting my responsibilities as a husband and a father, in your eyes? I do not understand where all this is coming from. Has Carolina asked that I have more time off? My wife has said nothing to me on this matter."

"No, no, certainly not, Alejandro. She has said nothing of the sort. This is a matter that I myself have given much thought to, and have decided to finally make right. I shall begin this week, by assuming the duties of chef again on Friday and Saturday evenings, that you may have the time off to be with your dear wife and lovely family."

"Whatever you say, Papa. It is your restaurant, after all. It is your decision."

"_Rosa's_ is our restaurant, Alejandro! Yours and mine."

"_Yours_ more than mine, clearly," my son pointed out, rising from the table. "Since you make all the decisions and I am left to abide by them. _Regardless_, Papa! I shall not trouble you by asking why my work no longer pleases you, that you feel the need to replace me in the kitchen on our busiest nights. I have work to do--I shall get to it, lest I find that I am replaced on Tuesdays through Thursdays, as well. I need to preserve what little dignity I have left."

Alejandro had left me completely speechless, and I'd been unable to open the dialogue with him in the successive days. He'd been careful to avoid me, and I scarce knew what to make of it!

Why was it so much work, being a successful husband and father??

This I knew not. But perhaps the wise Estefanía had an answer for my problems with Alejandro, as she had for my woes with Teresa. I would need to call her one afternoon and ask her…before I lost the one son that had always given me no reason to question his behavior.

I sighed, heading inside to deliver barbequed chicken to my dear wife, who apparently thought I was meeting my mistress on Monday nights…

_Dios mio! _How much more was a poor man expected to endure when he but tried to put others before himself, for once? I was afraid to discover the answer!


	75. Chapter 75

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. Hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 75

_Carlos' POV_

As we'd feared, _Operation Eagle Strike_ had been--thus far--one tremendous clusterfuck. FUBAR'd. Fucked Up Beyond All Repair. Royally. I don't really think any of my team (myself included) was really all too surprised about it, either.

Why? For starters, we remembered our all-but-useless week before the mission had even begun, when we'd had to cool our heels in at Fort Bragg, North Carolina while the "funny platoon"--the Delta Force Intel-gathering people--had tried unsuccessfully to locate our target.

Then there was the fact that our man--a kidnapped CIA operative named Curt Morgan--had already been in Al-Qaeda's hands for 2 weeks before that. Why the CIA hadn't asked for help earlier, who the hell knew? The spooks made their own rules, and never explained a damn thing more than they had to. The point was, they finally _had_ sought help from us. But for all we knew, Morgan had already been dead before we even took off from American soil almost 6 fucking weeks ago. We damned well knew he probably _wished _he were, at least.

He'd broken by now, poor bastard, we were all sure of it. Spilled his guts, handed over the CIA's top-secret information to the enemy, probably no longer in his right mind from indescribable pain. Once he'd done so, he would have been immediately eliminated, no longer valuable to his captors.

And then our next stage of _Operation Eagle Strike_--tracking down the terror cells he'd been moved among for weeks while they tortured him--would begin. We needed to find out what he'd told them, and how far it had spread through their organization, before we began taking them out, cell by cell, man by man.

Once that stage was completed, I and a handful of my specially-trained men would assume new carefully-crafted identities and infiltrate the next level up in Al-Qaeda to distribute false information--supposedly from the torture session itself. We would be masquerading as one of the cells, having already eliminated all of the men in it. We'd been preparing for that step for quite awhile, albeit it under a different set of circumstances; we all spoke the language fluently. The kidnapping of a CIA operative had been reason to put this already-scheduled infiltration plan to the test sooner than Delta Force had anticipated.

But Morgan _hadn't_ been where we'd been assured he was. So much for waiting a week while the funny platoon got their shit together! We'd gotten there, only to discover an abandoned hut in the middle of nowhere, and no clue that our target (or anyone else) had ever been there in the first place. None. And trust me when I tell you that if there had been a damned thing to find, we'd have found it. Instead, we had air. No leads, no suspects to interrogate, not a bloody fucking thing to give us any indication if our man was dead or alive, much less where he'd been moved to now. We had squat.

Our first step had been to scout the area for recently dug gravesites. It wouldn't have surprised any of us to find his beaten lifeless body dumped in a hole in the ground. But there was nothing. And now we no longer had the luxury of waiting for the funny platoon to gather more Intel for us: we had not a whole hell of a lot of options at this point. We needed to move fast--but we also needed to move smart. One wrong move, and we'd all be dead.

Tank, Lester, Bobby and I had conferenced, and I'd decided to split my team up into 4 groups of 5 men, with each of us taking command of a squad. We'd head in a different direction, tracking any possible leads to Morgan and whatever cell had him. We had informants in the surrounding area who would hopefully know _something_. When one of us had finally found our quarry, we'd rendezvous and do the take-down together. _I'd _make the ultimate decision on whether to eliminate or extract Morgan. And _I'd_ do the elimination, if that was the way it had to be. I'd done more of these jobs than I could count, and I was damned good at them.

Except that _Operation Clusterfuck_--as we'd all taken to calling it--had dragged on now for almost 6 weeks, with one piece of shit thing after another fucking up the works. The God-awful brutally hot weather. The resulting malfunction of some of our most valuable equipment. Misinformation after misinformation. Delay after delay. The serious illness of one of our most reliable informants. The inexplicable disappearances of two more. The skirmishes with the enemy--too numerous to count--which had resulted in 5 fatalities already. 5 brave men who'd given their lives before we finally found Curt Morgan.

Alive. Just barely. Defiant to his captors. Unbelievably. And--my gut told me--worth extraction, not elimination. If the man had survived over 2 months in Al-Qaeda's hands, _I_ sure as hell wasn't going to be the one to end his life.

We'd assembled the remainder of the team hurriedly, and now crouched unseen in the fading light of late November in Iraq. My decision of extraction over elimination wasn't an easy one to make. In fact, it made the next step of _Operation Eagle Strike_ even more perilous: we'd done surveillance on the cell that currently held Morgan. We'd counted 7 heavily-armed men, and were pretty confident that was all they had. All were present now, as was Morgan himself. Bloody. Badly beaten and bruised. But managing to enrage his captors with his repeated refusal to answer their questions. I felt tremendous appreciation for his courage, and it made me all the more certain that my decision to spare his life was the right one.

To extract Morgan meant that we'd have to go in hand to hand and fight bloody, rather than take them out by sniper fire one by one. We had a two to one advantage in man-power, but we knew that at the sound of the first gunshot, they'd undoubtedly kill Morgan. We'd therefore need to wait until nightfall and creep up on the hut under cover of darkness, using our knives and hands to kill. Two of the men were to focus on grabbing Morgan and pulling him to safety, then handing him over to Bobby Brown, our medic; the rest were to join with me in the battle with the captors.

We needed several of them alive--it was time they felt what Morgan had over the long weeks of his captivity. We had to get out of them what information we could: we needed to know where to head next, and we needed to know what the current chain of command was. Our lives would depend on knowing that, when those of us who were to infiltrate Al-Qaeda began our job.

We waited silently, patiently, like the trained assassins we were. We could hear an argument raging from inside the hut, and through our binoculars could discern that two of the terrorists were engaged in a heated altercation between themselves. The younger man was pressing the older man to cut Morgan's throat, certain that they would get no useful information from him. The older man insisted his captive was ready to break at any moment. From the looks of things, he might be right. Morgan looked ready to pass out at any moment. A glass of water was thrown in his face, and he was roused for another round of questioning.

"Those fucking bastards," I whispered to Tank, who'd crept to my side as we watched, "He's going to give it up any time now. No shame in it, either. Hell, it's a miracle he's still alive."

"That's for damned sure," came his soft reply, "This guy's more than your average spook, Superman. He's still hanging on by just a thread, but he's got guts in spades."

"We go in on my signal. Martinez and Stokes pull Morgan out, and I want Brown waiting out here to attend to him. Looks like you and Santos get your trip to DC after all, Tank."

"Didn't look that way for awhile, I gotta admit," the big guy sighed, "But I'm feeling pretty hopeful right now: if he's lasted this long, he'll get through the next bit in one piece. We'll damned well see to it."

"Guaranteed. Then you can hand him off to the Suits in Washington and tell them that they better get better Intel before their next guy gets grabbed--or we won't be so damned lucky."

"Funny you saying 'luck' when this whole mission has been FUBAR'd from the start."

"I guess Morgan broke our streak of bad luck. I hope so, anyway. We can't afford to lose any more men. Not this soon."

"I can hand Morgan off to Santos and stay behind to watch your back," Tank said quietly, "You could justify the change--"

"I could, but I won't." I knew Santos and Tank were the 10% that were expected to survive the mission, and I wasn't about to change the mission around to put him in the 90% fatality category. "You go back as scheduled, Tank. No more discussions."

He nodded once, and that conversation ended. Tank was a good friend, but above all else, he was a good soldier--one of the best.

Of course, both Tank and Lester--once they were debriefed in DC--were not due to be discharged from Delta Force for another 11 months. They'd get a bit of a break for R&R, then they'd be handed another mission. But during their brief stay in Washington, they'd have access to a phone. And they'd agreed to do me a huge favor: I'd written a letter to Stephanie, and Tank had agreed to personally hand it to my Babe, together with his first-hand assurance that I was well and thinking of her, counting the days--and nights--until I could return to her. It was nothing less than the truth.

I'd written the letter the evening before we'd left North Carolina, after I'd seen her on television and heard of her unexpected fame as You Tube's 'must see' video sensation. I would hand it to Tank before he and Santos and Morgan were extracted. I knew it would mean the world to my Steph, and I wanted to ease her fears in what little way I could. And I wanted something in writing she could hold on to--something that expressed my eternal love for her--should the mission prove to be as disastrous as I feared it would.

I wasn't one for writing love letters: hell, I didn't do emotion very well at all. But I'd found it surprisingly easy to pour my heart out on paper that night, thinking of Stephanie and all the light and joy she'd given me thus far. And all the love and happiness a life with her as my wife, and the mother of my children, would one day bring. If _Operation Clusterfuck_ didn't put a premature end to my life, that is. It still remained to be seen if that was to be the case.

Saying a quick prayer to St. Michael (whose medal I wore around my neck, courtesy of my loving Babe), I asked him to be with us in our righteous battle. Then I gave the signal, and my men and I moved in to do the job we'd been trained to do for our country.

It was over surprisingly quickly, with minimal injury on our side. Only Robinson, Torres and Nelson were hurt; thankfully none serious enough to require much care: Brown had his hands full with Curt Morgan. The guy was tougher than he'd looked in his file photo, but he'd been through hell, and it showed. Still, he was a trained CIA operative, and his first priority was briefing me.

As Brown patched his wounds up, Morgan gave us the real reason he'd summoned almost super-human courage to out-last his cruel interrogators.

"I never lost faith--I always knew someone would come for me, if I could just hang on," he said quietly, his blue eyes showing an inner strength that I respected deeply. He was about my age, and his brown hair was matted with blood from the repeated beatings he'd endured.

It would have been a tragedy if I'd chosen to eliminate this man based solely on the time-frame of his captivity. It turned out, Morgan had been playing a dangerous game that had kept him alive for the last two months.

"They moved me around every three days, almost like clock-work. I just got here late yesterday--your timing was perfect. With each new cell, I would start out defiant, then pretend to break after things got to a certain point."

"Pretend?"

"I've got a pretty high threshold for pain, Captain Manoso. After all this time, I have the routine down to a fine art. I crack, then beg for my life. Then I give them just enough information to sound credible, without giving them enough for them to be able to make any real use of it. Then I get ashamed and sullen, and hint that I know more that I'm not telling. It sucks them in and keeps them hooked." He sighed deeply, then winced in pain as Brown taped his ribs, "Bottom line: from me, they got nothing valuable they can use against us, just some low-level information that we knew they already had from other sources. And I gave them some locations that the CIA established just for this kind of purpose: they sound real, but they're going to be very disappointed with the results. They're abandoned buildings--they can blow them up and no one on our side will give a damn. "

"That was gutsy work, Morgan," I said, impressed. And trust me--I don't impress easily.

"That's what I'm trained for, Captain Manoso. I'm no desk jockey. You of all people should understand that--you've seen my personnel file," he replied, giving me a piercing look. "It would have been easier to take the shot. Take me out. Why didn't you do it? The 2 month time-frame said to you that I'd broken."

He was smart enough to realize our mission had been to extract--or eliminate--him. He knew the decision had been in my hands, and he wanted to know why I'd made the choice I had.

"Gut instinct," I confessed quietly, "I saw that fire in you when they threatened you. You weren't giving up. I decided that merited living."

What was left unsaid was that, had I arrived later--when he was pretending to crack and give up information--my decision would likely have been a different one. But maybe not. I did tend to have a sixth sense about people--ESP if you will--and I might well have seen through his little act. But we'd never know, would we?

"I couldn't give up and die--not until I was sure I could get this next bit of information to someone who could pass it on if I couldn't make it myself. _It's vitally important._ Sit down, Captain. You're not going to believe what I'm about to tell you. I know _I_ didn't--and I heard it with my own ears."

He had my interest, for certain. I listened in silence while he revealed information that changed everything--_Operation Eagle Strike _was insignificant compared to this!

"They're _alive_? You've certain?" I was incredulous. "_Both_ of them?"

"They" were two men who were critical to our country's safely, because they not only knew the intricate codes that were used to disguise our government's most top-secret information from our enemies--they'd _invented_ them! They had been presumed dead in an explosion in Rosslyn, Virginia (outside CIA Headquarters in Langley) only days earlier. An attack against the US on our own soil that had shaken the government to its very core. 67 people had been killed, almost a hundred more had been wounded. A CIA building had been badly damaged. We'd heard the news from our contact when we'd given our usual check-in yesterday.

And now Morgan was telling me that cryptographers Justin Hawkins and Robert Bell were _alive_. And they were now in the hands of Al-Qaeda!

"No one's looking for them because they're presumed dead," Morgan said quietly, "And from what I've been able to pick up, the explosion was set up deliberately to disguise their abduction. _They have someone on the inside_, Captain Manoso! A mole. Someone high up in our food chain--I don't know who. They refer to him only as 'The Chameleon'--because he's able to blend in so perfectly that, they say, no one will ever suspect him."

_Jesus help us. _This was a nightmare.

"Are you sure?" I said, my mind reeling from the terrifying possibilities this unleashed.

"Yes. He changed allegiances only recently, from what I've overheard. He's someone who's been in government service for most of his life---"

"What agency are we talking about? CIA?"

"I don't know. Could be. Probably is. He knew the names and the habits of both people who've developed the cryptography programs that we use to send top-secret messages. He handed the information over to Al-Qaeda not for money, but because he's had what they called 'an awakening of faith'--he's now fully committed to the fundamentalist cause."

"But you don't know for sure it's CIA? It could be--"

"It could be _anyone_. That's what I'm telling you! _Government. _That's all I know. That could even be military--someone in the Pentagon--"

"Holy Christ." Tank had come up behind me, and he--like me--was rocked by what Morgan was telling us.

"--or even an elected official. Hell, for all I know, it could be one of the Senators or House members who get intelligence briefings. But I doubt it. They wouldn't get that kind of detailed briefing on the people behind the codes."

"No, they wouldn't," I said slowly, my mind processing the information carefully. "I take it The Chameleon will ensure that the DNA will match Hawkins and Bell's when bodies are finally recovered and identified?"

"Of course. The point is not to tip anyone off that the codes have to be changed! They targeted the entire building and all those people just to cover the abductions. Then they got them both out of the country. Smuggled them out somehow, undoubtedly with help from a foreign embassy. Some neat trick."

"Where are they now? In Iraq? Or still on the way?"

"I'm not sure. But they're expecting one of the high lieutenants in Al-Qaeda to come in for the interrogations any day now. Not sure which one, possibly Ali Mohammed al-Rashad. They know this one is big--really big--and he, or someone equally important, will be taking a hands-on role in the questioning."

"Is that what the younger one meant when he said you were now expendable?"

"Yeah, my value is gone now that they have two really big fish to play with. Hawkins and Bell aren't cut out for torture, Captain Manoso. They aren't field agents. They'll crack, and Al-Qaeda will have our codes."

"They won't be in Al-Qaeda's hands long enough," I vowed, and Tank nodded. "We've got 5 of these pieces of shit still alive. One of them will talk before we get you picked up for your trip to DC. Guaranteed."

We had killed two of the terrorists, 5 were badly wounded but were conscious enough to talk. We were going to do whatever it took to make sure they did--then they'd join their companions in the mass grave several of the men were digging in the back. This was war, it wasn't pretty. But it was necessary.

You don't want to know what happened over the next several hours. Even if you did, you wouldn't hear it from me. If I told you, I'd have to kill you. Literally. But by the time 0330 hours had arrived, we'd made the necessary arrangements, and Morgan had gone with Tank and Santos and a few of my best men to the scheduled extraction point. The three would be on their way to Washington, and the men I'd sent to guard them would return to help us bury the rest of the terrorists' bodies.

I'd gotten the information I needed, and knew the chain of command in Al-Qaeda now. I also knew the names and locations of several of the cells in the area. The late unlamented terrorists had tried to outlast me on all of the information, but it hadn't worked. I'd broken every last one of them, and had done it without a shred of remorse.

Then I'd given long and careful thought to the best strategy to handle the current situation with regard to _Operation Eagle Strike's _three objectives. One had been accomplished: we had Morgan going back to DC, together with the unexpected and vital information on the existence of a mole. Two was now up in the air: I had no need to track down the cells he'd been moved among in order to determine what information he'd given them. He'd told me what it was, and I believed him: it was useless. What little he had told them, he could tell Washington, and immediate arrangements could be made to repair the minimal damage. Taking cells out to prevent them from talking about the information was essentially a waste of time--time we should be spending on finding and rescuing Hawkins and Bell. Our third objective had been to infiltrate Al-Qaeda in order to pass on false information as witnesses to the torture of Morgan. It would better serve the nation were we to infiltrate in order to determine the identity of the mole.

The fact that one existed had caused me to carefully re-examine our streak of bad luck in the mission thus far. Oh, the weather had played some part in it. But now I was looking at everything else in a new, more suspicious light: the funny platoon's delay in getting the Intel to us; the fact that most of the Intel had been bad; the disappearance of two of our most reliable informants…perhaps what we'd thought was one big clusterfuck was instead a careful sabotage of the mission?

I placed an emergency call to my contact and within the hour I had a direct call back from General Jack Rousche, someone I'd known and respected for years. Someone whom I knew damned well I could trust with the details of Morgan's stunning news.

General Rousche had agreed with my analysis, and he'd gone outside the usual channels to ensure that only a small handful of the most trusted men knew that my mission, effective immediately, had been changed.

We were playing for the highest stakes; we could take no chance that our mole would know we were on to him.

For that reason, the CIA was completely cut out of the loop--at least temporarily (until each individual had been thoroughly investigated and cleared of any possible suspicion that he was 'The Chameleon'). That decision had been made by the Secretary of Defense, personally, after an emergency consultation with the President himself.

Once they were de-briefed on the latest developments, Tank and Lester were to be assigned to a new top-secret task force to be formed in Washington. They would be my new contacts in DC, replacing men who could not be totally ruled out as possible suspects for 'The Chameleon'. I felt relieved: they'd still have my back, albeit from thousands of miles away.

Morgan was scheduled to 'die' and be placed in protective custody: that would ensure his safety so that he could testify to what he'd heard when the traitor was finally brought to justice.

And, after they'd finished burying the terrorists, once another transport could be arranged for them, 8 men from my team would be flown back to Washington to work on the mission from that end. They had been considered by our superiors to be 'expendable": only 5 of us were to infiltrate the cell. The others were part of that 90% fatality rate. Now, with this stunning turn of events, their lives were to be spared!

A decision had been made to use those 8 men "undercover" in the new building in the Rosslyn complex to which the CIA's people had been relocated, while the damaged building was examined and then repaired. They were to work as military security, while keeping their ears to the ground to report any suspicious behavior to the newly-appointed task force. I'd welcomed that development, and I had absolute trust in my men's ability to get the job done.

I ended the call with Gen. Rousche, and turned to Bobby Brown, filling him in on the change of plans.

"Hell of a way to spend Thanksgiving, Superman," he sighed, running his hand through his sweat-soaked hair. "Although I guess we should be thankful that the odds have changed--for some of the guys, at least."

Not for us.

"Yeah," I nodded, knowing he referred to that damned projected fatality rate that hung over all of our heads like Damocles' sword. "There is that, for sure. Jesus, Bobby, what if I'd taken him out without hearing what he had to say? What would have happened then?"

"You didn't," he replied, "That's all that's important. You knew better. That's why you're so damned good at what you do, Carlos. ESP or whatever you want to call it. That's why you were hand-picked to lead this particular mission."

It was true--I had been. Brown, Tank and Lester were the only ones of my men who knew it. I was damned good at my job, and my superiors recognized it. I'd been told often enough that I had a bright future in Delta Force--and in the Pentagon, one day--if only I could live long enough to enjoy it.

But whether I would or not, still remained to be seen. For the 5 of us who were to remain in Iraq--and hook up with our informant to form a cell--the odds were still lousy. We were still in that original 90%. And now we were moving into the most dangerous part of the mission--with a traitor somewhere in the shadows. A high-level traitor who could be anyone, anywhere.

I stood and stretched my muscles, checking my watch. It had been a long day and an even longer night. It was now time to get what little sleep we could before we moved into the next stage of what had now been renamed _Operation_ _Eagle's Talon_. It was to be hoped that it would result in the unveiling of the man who had betrayed his country--before he could do irreversible damage.

As I fell off to what I expected would be a restless sleep, I found myself thinking again of Stephanie. It had been 46 long days since I'd last seen her beautiful face. Since I'd last kissed her sweet lips and held her soft body close to mine. At times like this, I downright _ached_ for her. Humbly, I thanked God for bringing my Babe into my life, and prayed for a future with her one day. I wondered how she was, what her Thanksgiving was like--and finally lost myself in dreams of the woman I loved more than I'd ever loved anything or anyone.

On this nightmare Thanksgiving Day, 2008, April 6th 2010 seemed like a lifetime away…


	76. Chapter 76

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. Hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 76

"I'm thinking of going blonde," Tina announced, "What do you think?"

"I think you're insane," I replied, rolling my eyes dismissively.

"I saw that," she huffed.

"Did not--we're on the phone."

"You rolled your eyes, Stevie--admit it!"

"How did you do that?"

"I know you."

"Well, what do you expect? I just called to wish you Happy Thanksgiving, and I'm hit with the news you're going blonde."

"I said, _thinking_ of going blonde. There's a difference."

"What brought this on?"

"It's your fault."

"It's always my fault, according to my mother. What did I do wrong this time?"

"You showed me that slideshow of the 'Are you a Babe?' ad campaign, that's what you did."

"You looked _gorgeous_ in that ad, what the hell are you complaining about?"

"I looked _okay_. Just okay. _Mary Lou _looked gorgeous. And she's got 2 kids! _Amanda _looked gorgeous. _Stella_ looked gorgeous. That chick from the real estate office---"

"Allison--"

"---looked gorgeous. And what do they all have in common, I ask?"

"They're not insane?"

"They're all _blonde_! I found this website where you can upload a photo of yourself and do a makeover--"

"You don't need a makeover, I keep telling you: you look absolutely beautiful."

"I'm going for stunning. Staggeringly breathtakingly gorgeous. The kind of blazing hot that makes a man stop me on the street and beg to get my phone number."

"What brought this on?"

"I haven't had a date in months. And I haven't had sex in ages. I'm horny."

"We went through this last month. Are you at that time of the month again?"

"I'm not answering that, Stevie. I'm just asking if you think I'd look good as a blonde."

"No. I think you look great as a brunette."

"But remember that commercial? 'Blondes have more fun!' I want _fun_!"

"You want sex."

"Damn straight. And lots of it."

"I thought you wanted Carlos to hook you up with Lester."

"I do. What if Lester prefers blondes?"

"Lester will take one look at you--a gorgeously over-sexed brunette--and he'll be crazy about you. Guaranteed. Now stop yapping about this blonde makeover, and--"

"_Gentleman Prefer Blondes_, remember that movie?"

"You're driving me nuts, Tina. I'm already stressed out at the thought of having to eat dinner at my parents' house when my mother isn't even talking to me. I don't need more craziness in my life."

"She's _still_ not talking to you?"

"Not a word. She'll probably try to poison me. Stick cyanide in the dressing or something."

"I don't think you need to worry about that: she wouldn't want the neighbors to think she can't cook a proper Thanksgiving dinner. Having your daughter rushed to the ER to get her stomach pumped makes her a failure as a Burg mother."

"That actually makes me feel better. Thanks."

"Anytime, boss."

"I'm not your boss off-hours. I'm your friend. Your friend who needs someone to magically fast-forward the day so I'm getting home from dinner instead of getting ready to leave for there."

"No can do--sorry. But you could have it even worse than you do."

"Not possible."

"You could be at _my _parents' house for dinner. They're going to be yapping non-stop, and I'll never get a word in edge-wise."

"You're lucky. The silence at our dinner table will be deafening. My mother's not talking to my father, either. Or my grandmother. Or her 'fossil of a boyfriend'."

"I'm sure this is not news to you, Stevie, but your mother is a grade A bitch."

"That's for damned sure. I'm just hoping the hell she didn't go whole-hog with the bitchiness and invite Morelli to dessert just to make me miserable."

"Your father warned her--"

"Yeah, but how are we going to go out for dinner at Pino's after we've already eaten? I'm telling you: it's just like her to invite him for dessert and pretend to be surprised."

"What will you do?"

"What do you think? Get up and leave. ASAP. I'm not interested in Joe Morelli and I hate being manipulated by my mother and Angie Morelli into spending any time at all with the jerk. Not to mention, I'm missing Carlos like hell."

"Poor Stevie. It's hard, isn't it?"

"I dream about him every night. I miss him 24/7. I'm wondering where he is right this very second, what he's doing. If he's safe--"

"He's Superman, remember? He's safe."

"Yeah, I know. I think I'd feel it if he weren't."

"Well, just take my advice: cut the afternoon short, have dinner and then say you have a headache and come home. That way your agony time is shortened."

"That actually is kinda my plan. I'm sure I won't be lying, either. She's giving me a headache already and I'm not even there."

"I'm sending you a web link. Do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Check out my picture and tell me if I'd look better blonde. Honest opinion."

"I'm hanging up now."

And I did.

Dinner was….._brutal_. No other word for it. My mother was in complete bitch mode, and I could tell from my father's reaction when I came to the door that he too was working on a massive headache. My father never answered the door. Never. Except for today.

"I take it you're the designated daughter welcomer."

"Your mother is out in the kitchen banging pots and pans and sneaking belts of sherry."

"She's drinking?"

"It's a new thing. Ever since your grandmother told her that she's going to be in the magazine as your new lingerie model."

"_Oh for crying out loud! _It's not like Grandma is going to be _wearing _the lingerie! It's just a shot of her face."

"It's _true_? You're actually using that old bat in your ad campaign?" My father looked stunned. "I thought you wanted to sell lingerie, not scare people out of buying it!"

"Dad!!!"

He shook his head sorrowfully, and headed back to the television. Football was on, after all. My father _loved _football. And frankly, I think he was still having major problems processing the picture of my grandmother as a model of _any_ sort…

That was my grandmother's major topic of conversation, all through dinner. Her new modeling "career". Apparently, Grandma Mazur believed that she was going to be "discovered" thanks to the _Babe! _ad, and was going to be a new rising star in the modeling world.

"I'll always keep a spot open for you, though," she assured me, hastily. "I'll tell my agent to push your shoots to the top of my schedule. I'm not the kind of celebrity who forgets how she got to the top."

Wilbur beamed proudly. "I'm going to be shacked up with a supermodel! A lingerie supermodel, at that! Wait until the guys at the senior center hear about this!"

"We're keeping a lid on it for now, on accounta you asked us to," she confided, her dentures wobbling precariously as she attacked the plate of sliced turkey breast.

My father pulled his hand back, having just missed being stabbed by her fork. He muttered under his breath, and I bit my lip unhappily.

"Edna and I are really grateful you gave us that new furniture for the bedroom," Wilbur said, passing the cranberry sauce.

"You're welcome, I'm glad you could use it."

I helped myself to the sauce, and passed the bowl to my stonily-silent mother. She hadn't said a word to me--or to my father--all day. She'd even forgone the usual "dinner's ready" announcement, settling instead for putting all the food on the table and then sitting down herself. We'd all looked at each other in amazement, then scampered to the table ourselves before the meal got cold.

"The meal is excellent, Ellen, thank you so much for inviting me."

Poor Wilbur was doing his best to be a gentleman in the most trying of circumstances. It won him no points from my mother, who totally ignored him.

"So--" My father took a deep breath, "How's everything going at work, Pumpkin?"

That was dangerous territory, and from the look on my father's face, I could tell he knew it. But he was clearly feeling in the mood for it. I suspect living with a woman who wasn't talking to him was getting on his nerves, and he was hoping this would cause an explosion that would end the silent treatment once and for all.

"It's going great, Dad," I took a breath, and decided to continue. After all, even if my mother wasn't talking, there were four of us at the table who were ready to converse. "We signed contracts with Harrod's this week, we're going to be sold there starting December 15th. And I'm going to be flying to London on the 12th to do some publicity for the line. I'll be on British telly and everything. I'm really excited!"

"That's my girl! I'm proud of you, Pumpkin!"

"Do you need me to come with you?" my grandmother offered hopefully, "I can do some photo shoots over there. Sell the Brits on the lingerie for you!"

"Um….no, thanks, Grandma." Catching my father's incredulous look, I swallowed my wine without spitting it up--just dumb luck--and looked regretful. Or tried to, anyway. "I'm only going to be there for a few days, no time for photo shoots, unfortunately. But thanks for offering."

"No problem. I'll probably be busy shooting in Paris or Rome or somewhere else on the Continent. But if you need me, don't hesitate to call my cell. I'm always ready for more bookings. I'm looking for a supermodel name. Edna Mazur is too ordinary. I'm thinking of something flashy like '_SilverFox_'. Got it? One word, not two. Whattaya think?"

My mother crossed herself, and swigged down her entire glass of wine before grabbing the bottle and refilling her glass to the top.

"Actually, I think you should keep Edna Mazur," I suggested, "The ethnic thing is in now…"

"I'll think about it," she considered it, "After all, I want to stay current with the trends."

Wilbur nodded seriously. "Edna is very hip and happening."

My father snorted, and his glass of wine emptied just as quickly as my mother's had. He too refilled.

I was tempted to do the same, but too much wine makes me sleepy--if not downright loopy--and I had to drive home.

"Well," I said, as dinner finished up, "This was _fun_."

Honestly, I kept the sarcasm out of my voice….mostly. I stood to begin collecting the dirty dishes, glad for something to do.

My mother stood, and grabbed the plates out of my hand, again without a word. Apparently, I was not going to be permitted to clean the table either. _Whatever. _She disappeared into the kitchen with a handful of stacked plates, and my father sighed loudly.

"Christ, I'd have enjoyed Pino's more."

He wasn't the only one.

"I'm getting sick of Ellen's panties being in such a bunch," opined Grandma. "I'm thinking we bail before dessert, huh, Snookums?"

Wilbur nodded happily, and I bit my lip to keep from laughing. _Snookums?_

"I'm kinda thinking the same thing," I said, chickening out.

My father sighed again. "Take some pie home with you."

Not if I had to go into the kitchen to get it!

Just then the doorbell rang. Everyone froze. I looked at my father and he looked at me. Neither of us said what we were thinking.

The doorbell rang again, insistently.

"Wait a minute! If that's Joe Morelli," Grandma Mazur announced to Wilbur, "We're _staying_. I want to see what happens."

She wasn't the only one.

Suddenly my mother's long-absent voice came from the kitchen. "For God's sake, Stephanie--will you go and get the door!"

That tore it--I knew _exactly _who was there. So did my father. We both rose in unison and grabbed for our coats: Pino's had cannoli for dessert. And I didn't need pumpkin pie badly enough to look at Morelli's smug face over the dining room table.

I swung the door open, my jaw dropping open as I took in the very last person--actually, the very last person_s_--I'd expected to see on my parents' doorstep this Thanksgiving: my sister Valerie and her two young daughters, Mary Alice and Angie.

Valerie looked a complete wreck, her always perfect blonde hair disheveled and her eyes puffy from constant crying. Her nose was red, and she burst into fresh tears when she saw my father and me standing at the door.

"Valerie?" I could barely get the word out, I was so downright stunned to see her standing there.

The girls stood uncertainly, both looking totally exhausted and miserable.

"He left us!" She wailed, then completely broke down. "Steve left us! He emptied the bank account, took all of our money and then ran off with Kristin our babysitter! We can't pay our bills! The bank is foreclosing on the house! I had to sell all my jewelry--including my wedding rings--to afford Greyhound bus tickets to get here!"

By this time my grandmother and Wilbur had collected at the door, and we all stood silently, none of us knowing what the hell to say to any of it.

I think I deserve major props for not saying "I told you so!" After all, if she'd taken my advice weeks ago, she'd have had half of the money in her own bank account and a lawyer to preserve her rights. But no, she was listening to my mother and baking meat loaf and wearing sexy lingerie and giving Steve "room". Whatever the hell _that _meant.

I heard my mother's pained voice coming from somewhere behind me.

"Why _me_?" She agonized, lost again in her own private Hell, "Myra Kornocowski's daughter Joanne doesn't get left by her husband for some young girl and turn up penniless on her mother's doorstep on Thanksgiving! Why _me_?"

I mightily resisted the urge to inform my mother that just for _once_, this drama didn't revolve solely around _her_. She wouldn't have believed me anyway.

"Why _you_?" My father groaned miserably, as we stepped aside to usher the three of them inside. "Why _not_ you, Ellen? _You're_ the one who gave her the lousy advice on keeping her marriage going to the cheating no-good son-of-a-bitch! And you have the nerve to ask why _you_?"

_Go, Dad!_

But he wasn't finished--not by a long shot!

"The better question is: why _me_? I no sooner get the old bat out of here and get my bathroom back, then I have to share it with 3 more people. All because you both thought you knew better than Stephanie, and didn't take advice from the most sensible one in the family."

WOO HOO! _I_ was the most sensible in the family? _Go, me! _

My long-suffering father was on a roll now, and both my mother's and Valerie's mouths hung open as he let them have it with both barrels.

"You two have looked down your nose at Steph for years, thinking you both were smarter than she was and knew everything about anything. Well, guess what? You're both _idiots_! Ellen, _you're_ an idiot for treating Stephanie like a pariah for dumping that worthless bastard Dickie Orr and making a life for herself outside the Burg, with a career she can be proud of and a man who loves her. And for pushing that piece of shit Joe Morelli at her despite how he disrespected her in high school. And giving Valerie worthless advice on keeping that loser of a husband who is clearly not worth the time of day. And Valerie, _you're_ an idiot for listening to your mother and setting a lousy example for both of your daughters as to what a man should or shouldn't do to the woman he loves. Well, you two _deserve_ each other! Pumpkin, let's get out of here before I completely lose my temper and say anything more than I've said already."

I nodded, giving the girls a quick hug and a kiss. I looked at my father questioningly, and he smiled. "Yeah, good idea. We're taking the girls with us to Pino's for dessert." He looked at Valerie, and his voice left no doubt it was a statement not a question. "They don't need to listen to both of you whining and trying to come up with the perfect pot roast recipe to get that no-good cheating bastard back so he can screw you all over again."

Valerie began sniffling again, and I honestly tried to feel sorry for her.

I really really did.

But mostly I felt sorry for Mary Alice and Angie, who hadn't asked to be put into this situation, and had only their mother to rely on now. It wasn't going to be easy.

"I have twin beds and furniture for a girls' bedroom," I brushed Valerie's mess of hair out of her eyes, "I'll get a truck--"

"My son will help," Wilbur offered. "I'll call him now."

"--we'll get it over here as soon as we can," I said quietly, "That way the girls will have a nice room to live in."

My sister said nothing, just sniffled. She was the perfect victim, and Steve had done a number on her. I wondered how long it would take--if ever--for her to grow a backbone and start building a life for herself and her girls.

I thanked God that I'd gotten out of my marriage to Dickie Orr before I'd ended up pregnant and in the same position as Valerie. Although I knew deep in my heart that I'd never--I mean _never_--have stood for any of the shit that Steve pulled on my sister, had our positions been reversed.

As my mother pulled my sobbing sister into the living room, my father and I grabbed each of the girls' hands and set about trying to get their minds off their misery.

It was a tall order.

But someone had to do it.

_To see the new slideshow for the 'Are you a Babe?' ad campaign, go to MY PROFILE and click on the link I've provided. Hope you enjoy it!_


	77. Chapter 77

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. Hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 77

By the time my father and I had gotten back to the house with Mary Alice and Angie, both girls were smiling: I'd promised them a trip to New York's Radio City Music Hall for the traditional Christmas show. Valerie and I had gone when we were younger, and it had been so exciting for both of us that I just knew her girls would love it, as well. I had no doubt that Val would permit me to take the girls. She probably wouldn't want to join us, but hell, if she did, I'd invite her too. It was not much, but it was about all I could do for her.

Grandma and Wilbur, it turned out, had stayed at the house instead of heading back to their condo. Wilbur had called his son, who had immediately jumped into action--on Thanksgiving Day, yet--and the truck and a handful of Sneed men were now at our disposal to move the promised bedroom furniture from my townhouse to my parents' house so the girls could have it tonight. If I hadn't appreciated Wilbur fully before, I sure appreciated him now: he was a great guy, and my grandmother was fortunate to have him in her life.

Valerie was now in the kitchen with my mother, both of them drinking what was left of the wine. I heard my mother extolling the virtues of working in the local button factory. Val was going to put an application in Monday morning, and "with luck"--_bad_ luck, I'd say--she'd get the job.

I shook my head, and gave my father a look that said what we were both thinking: Valerie _still_ hadn't learned that our mother's advice stunk to high Heaven. Still, my sister wasn't trained to do anything, so I guess the button factory was one step up from the other choice my mother could have pushed: the personal products plant. I know I'd rather work making buttons than tampons. But then again, I'd rather be _shot_ than do either. But--_thank God_--I wasn't Valerie.

We headed to my home, my grandmother riding with me in my Porsche and my father chauffeuring Wilbur behind us. Moments after we arrived, the now-familiar truck pulled up into my driveway, followed by two carloads of Sneed men. We had the furniture loaded on the truck in no time at all. Wilbur and family brushed our thanks aside, saying only that they were glad to help. What we'd have done without them, I didn't want to think.

My Dad took Grandma Mazur and Wilbur back with him, and I kicked off my shoes and headed into my bedroom to change into comfortable clothes. I had no sooner made it downstairs and headed into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee when the doorbell rang.

Still barefoot, I headed to the door, wondering who it could possibly be. Mateo had already delivered my Thanksgiving present from Carlos yesterday: an absolutely adorable gold charm of none other than Rex, my beloved hamster!

Carlos had, of course, included a note with the package, and I'd already read it so many times I'd memorized it. The man wrote the most amazingly tender love letters! There were really no words to describe how much they meant to me--but I beamed ear to ear every time I thought of them and imagined him writing them to me.

_Dear Babe,_

_Happy Thanksgiving! Wish I could be there with you, holding you and showing you in actions rather than in mere words just how thankful I am to God for bringing you into my life--but for now, that is impossible. _

_Of all the blessings I've had in my life, you are the one I am most grateful for. You have given me, in the short time we've been together, more happiness and pure joy than I've ever imagined was possible--certainly much more than I deserve. I know that I am the luckiest man in the world to have you love me, and to have your promise that you will be my future wife and one day the mother of my children. _

_I think of you every day and dream of you every night. I close my eyes and see your beautiful face, your unforgettable blue eyes, your tender smile. I hear your soft voice, the delicious sounds you make when I'm deep inside you, loving you, making you mine as you have made me yours. I remember the touch of your hands as they move over my body and bring me the closest to Heaven I'll ever get. _

_I recall every single second of every single day and night we shared together, and I can't wait until we can have that again and never be parted by anyone or anything. I love you always and forever, Stephanie. You have my heart and my soul, and without you I'm incomplete. _

_I hope you are well and happy, although I know you are missing me as much as I am missing you. But I remember you promised to fly while I was gone, and I know you are a woman of your word, Wonder Woman. I know you will be waiting for me, and I will be home to you as soon as I possibly can. Meantime, keep little Rex here close and think of me sending you thousands and thousands of kisses…because I am._

_Love always,_

_Your Superman,_

_Carlos_

I opened the door and found, to my surprise, my next-door neighbor Mrs. Cooper. She gave me a friendly smile, and we exchanged holiday greetings. Then she handed me a package wrapped in colorful paper. It was a little bigger than a shoebox, and I couldn't imagine what it was or who it was from.

"You had a visitor earlier today," she explained, "A older Hispanic woman, she said her name was Rosa. She was ringing your doorbell just as my husband and I pulled into our driveway coming back from church. You weren't home, so she left this package with us. She was very insistent that it not be left outside, since the weatherman said there was a chance of rain."

I'd missed Rosa! I was very disappointed, wondering if she would have come inside to share that promised cup of tea with me, or if she'd just intended to drop off the package and leave. And for the first time, she'd left a box, rather than just an envelope with a photo in it. What on earth could be in it?

After thanking Mrs. Cooper, I headed into the living room excitedly to open the box. To my surprise, after I'd unwrapped it, I found a tiny yellow Post-It note on the box itself in what I recognized as Rosa's careful handwriting.

_Stephanie--_

_Open the envelope first, then the box. You'll understand why._

_Rosa_

I noticed there was a small manila envelope tucked under the box, and my name was printed on it. I opened it, assuming it was a letter from Rosa explaining what was in the box. But I was wrong: instead of just a letter, there were not _one_, not _two_, but _three_ photos of Carlos! This was an abundance of riches, and I let out a happy cry as I eagerly examined them.

It was Carlos at three very different stages of his life. In one, he was still a young boy, playing with crayons, a delighted smile on his face as he shared playtime with a woman in a yellow dress. He was wearing a denim shirt, but I couldn't see the woman's face: she was not the focus of the photo--he was.

In the second photo, Carlos was much older, perhaps a few years younger than he was currently. He wore a black t-shirt, and a serious expression, as he oh-so-patiently allowed his photo to be taken. I remembered Rosa's earlier comment that he didn't like having his photo taken: I imagine he'd let that be known this time. He studied the camera with his dark chocolate-colored eyes, and he had just the mere hint of a beard, as he'd had when he'd been with me. His mouth was tipped up as if he were thinking of smiling, but hadn't quite decided whether to do it or not.

The last photo was somewhere in the middle, age-wise. He was a teen-ager, and the photo was clearly taken out at a restaurant. Carlos was dressed in a black shirt, a gold tie, and a black jacket, his face beaming as he posed for the photo.

I opened Rosa's letter and began to read, looking up to re-examine the photos as she explained to me when they were taken.

_Stephanie, mi querida niña-_

_I have for you a_ _special treat on this very Happy Thanksgiving. You have given this old woman what I have most wanted for so many years: the knowledge that my beloved Carlito has found finally a good strong woman who loves him with all of her heart and will be a faithful companion to him for all the days of his life. _

_I cannot count how many times I have read your lovely letter, and looked at the photo you have blessed me with, the photo of you as a lovely sweet most adorable baby. Truly, your children with Carlito--as indeed there must be more than one--will be the most beautiful children to ever walk the earth, with such a lovely mother and such a handsome father. I cannot wait to hold them in my arms, and the promise you have made that your girl will bear my name has given me so much happiness that I cannot tell you in words._

_For this reason, I must be very generous with my gift to you. I know that you treasure above all else the photos of Carlos and the stories of when they were taken. This time I have chosen three, along with another even more special gift, which I ask you to wait to open until you have read this letter._

_I have Pedro waiting out in the car. I hope you will forgive me for ringing your doorbell and scurrying off--as fast as this old woman can scurry, that is--so as not to see you myself. It is not the time for us to sit face to face in your lovely new home and talk of Carlos, and it would not be fair of me to do so now. You will one day know why, and I hope you will understand why I must avoid doing this at the present time. Forgive me, please._

_The oldest photo was taken on Thanksgiving Day, 2 years ago in 2006, when Carlos was 24. He was home from the Army on leave, and he and his friend Pierre--I believe he is called 'Tank' because he is so massive--had joined me for holiday dinner. The boys had a huge appetite, as indeed you might expect. It was clear that they enjoyed themselves immensely, as indeed I did, because since my Carlito has joined the Army I very rarely see him on holidays. This Thanksgiving was a special day for us, and we celebrated by sharing the day together. Carlos and Pierre watched football while my daughter-in-law and I prepared dinner. And then we all gathered at the table and shared the pleasure of each other's company. I took this photo of my Carlito afterwards, as he was preparing to leave to return to his Army duties. I asked that he smile, but no--Carlito was quite serious, as he often is these days. It is the heavy burden of his military duties, I know. But you have changed that: for you, I know he will smile and smile often. I bless you for that, dear Stephanie!_

_The second photo is another Thanksgiving, much earlier in his life. Carlos was 17, and we dined not at home but at Rosa's, in one of the private rooms. As was my late husband's rule, we all had to dress formally for dinner. Carlos looked so handsome in his black suit--and I told him so, winning a huge smile from him in return. This is one of my favorite photos, he looks so young and happy and carefree on that holiday, before all the trouble started. I will not speak of that now, I prefer to think only of happy times._

_The last photo is another of my favorites. Carlito is almost 3, and he is so very innocent and joyous, playing at my house, coloring a picture for me as his mother snaps the photo. He loved to color, and he was quite the artist. I still have some of the cards he made for me, they are among my prized possessions. I imagine that you and Carlos will have a son who looks identical to him. Perhaps this is a foolish old woman talking, but no--I believe that you will be blessed with several children. Three, I think. Sometimes I know these things, and this I think will be true._

_Now it is time for your most special surprise. It is one of my most prized possessions, because it was so very special to my beloved Carlito for so many years. Surely by now you have guessed what it is, for before in my letter I have told you of him. You may open the box now, querida niña! _

I set the letter down, and excitedly grabbed the box, not really sure what to expect. Surely it couldn't be----

It was.

Blackie. Carlos' favorite childhood toy. The stuffed animal that Rosa had said he carried around as a constant companion for years. The dog he wanted but could not have because his mother was allergic to them.

I held the animal lovingly in my hand, and examined it carefully. It was originally black, Rosa had said--hence its name--but it had faded over the years and now was more a dark gray. It was well-worn, and obviously much loved, and I found myself blinking back tears thinking of the sweet little boy who had so guarded him, and who had grown into the man I loved more than anything in the world.

I hugged it to my breast, and breathed in the smell of it. It might have been only my imagination, but I thought I even smelled baby powder! I picked up the photo of Carlos at 3, and tried to imagine him with Blackie carefully tucked under his arm as he set forth on a day of adventure!

Then I had another thought--how the hell had _Rosa_ managed to get custody of Blackie? It was one of her prized possessions, she said. And from the layers of tissue paper it had come wrapped in, and the state of its preservation after all these years, I could absolutely believe it. But this was the kind of thing one would expect a _mother _to keep as a fond memento of her child, not give to a family friend! It made no sense. None.

A thought niggled at the back of my mind, but I was distracted by the ringing of the telephone.

It was Valerie, thanking me for the bedroom furniture, which they'd just finished setting up in the girls' new room. She put both Mary Alice and Angie on the phone to extend their thanks, and I was relieved to hear that both my nieces still sounded excited instead of despondent. We talked a bit more, and I promised them a tour of my new townhouse over the weekend. Then they put Val back on the phone, and she okay'd me taking them to the City sometime before the Christmas holidays. I figured we'd make a day of it: I'd take them to see Santa at Macy's, then we'd have something to eat, and then we'd see the show at Radio City Music Hall. Val signed off on all of it, but--as expected--turned down the invitation herself. No matter: I'd invite Mary Lou and her two kids, Michelle and Mark, and we'd have a great time!

Speaking of Mary Lou--I picked up the phone and called my friend, not only to wish her a happy holiday, but also to tell her the news about Valerie and Steve's failed marriage and my sister's unexpected return to Trenton. Mary Lou was sympathetic, but amazed that Val could have been so damned clueless as to be taken in by Steve.

"Why didn't she listen to you?" Mary Lou sighed, "All of this would have had a different ending. Steve might still have left, but at least Val would have money to keep the house and pay for her and the girls' expenses."

"That's the $24,000 question, all right," I agreed, "But this time I didn't have to do the 'I told you so' thing."

I told her about my father's explosion, and Mary Lou gave him an enthusiastic 'thumbs-up'.

"Good for him! It's about time he spoke up and told your mother she's not treating you fairly," my loyal friend announced. "What did your mother say?"

"Nothing," I grinned, "She was in a state of shock, just like the rest of us. When I left, she was telling Val to put an application in at the button factory."

"Terrific. She deserves what she'll get if she's dumb enough to do it."

We chatted a bit longer, and my friend was enthusiastic at the idea of going to New York for a holiday visit. We set a date, and I hung up smiling.

I logged onto the internet to order the tickets, and on a whim, I logged onto the site Tina had emailed me. I shook my head as I imagined her as a blonde, and decided to call her and give her the news.

She was crestfallen, having been almost decided to call her hairdresser to make the change. Instead, I distracted her with the news about Val and the girls. Tina was anything but shy in expressing her opinion, and by the time we ended the call, it was quite late.

I padded upstairs to my bedroom, Blackie and the envelope with the photos and the letter in my hand. As was my new custom--ever since Carlos had gone back to the Army (or Delta Force, to be more exact)--I turned on CNN to hear the latest news on the Iraq war. I'd even ordered a TV for my office, and pretty much become a news junkie.

There was nothing new for CNN to report, and I wondered again just how Carlos was this Thanksgiving Day. What was he eating? They sure didn't have turkey dinner in Iraq, I knew that much. What did they eat? I tucked my new photos and letter into my keepsake box, and decided that I'd invest in a more decorative box than the simple cardboard box I'd been using. Yes, since I was collecting quite a stash of letters from Carlos and Rosa, and sketches of the charms, and photos of Carlos, I definitely needed a bigger and more personalized box in which to store my treasures! I'd check the internet tomorrow and order something really special as a treat for myself.

I shucked my clothes and stood under the shower for a long time, decompressing from the stress of the day. Valerie clearly wasn't prepared to take any advice from anyone but my mother. My mother clearly wasn't prepared to admit she was wrong about anything. And my father clearly was losing his patience at both of them. Grandma Mazur clearly was happy with Wilbur, who clearly was crazy about her. And I was clearly missing my man like hell, but doing a damned fine job of keeping my promise to fly while he was gone. This was Life as I knew it.

But _something_ still was niggling in the back of my mind. It was there--it was on the tip of one of my brain cells. But for the life of me, I couldn't get it to come out.

I finished my shower, tamed my wild curls with a special conditioner recommended by Mr. Alexander, and lotioned up before climbing into my favorite pj's and settling onto the bed to address my conundrum.

The answer to my unease had to be somewhere in those letters of Rosa's: how the hell did _she_ get custody of Carlos' beloved toy Blackie? And what had she meant when she asked for my forgiveness for avoiding a face to face chat with me in my home because it would not be fair at the present time?

I didn't have a clue, but I intended to find out. I fell asleep, still reading the letters.

_To see the photos of Carlos and Blackie, as well as the charm of Rex, check out the TNH Photo Album. The link is in MY PROFILE._


	78. Chapter 78

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. Hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 78

It was the most bizarre dream I'd ever had in my entire life. And trust me, that's really saying something. I've had dreams where I was walking naked into a room of well-dressed strangers. Hell, I think _everyone's_ had that kind of dream at least once. I've had dreams of falling into the back of a cement truck and turning up as a new sidewalk in front of EE Martin, with everyone walking on my face and crushing me to a bloody pulp. That one came when Mrs. Lebowitz and I had gone a few rounds too many and I'd been written up for calling her a first class bitch. Which she _was_, but Human Resources didn't think that qualified as a defense. I'd been on probation for a month that time.

I even dreamed once that I was dancing the cha cha cha with good old Rex--yeah, okay, _that_ one came after I'd had a few too many margaritas at Tina's last birthday party. But still, it was to date my most truly crazy off-the-wall dream ever. That I could _remember_, anyway. Who the hell knows what went on in my head when I _couldn't_ recall it?

This one I _could_ recall, because I woke up at the end of it, in a cold sweat and feeling my heart pounding out of my chest. I couldn't blame too many margaritas or that old nasty witch Mrs. Lebowitz for _this _one, so I climbed out of bed and headed downstairs for a cup of my feel-good beverage of choice: a mug of hot chocolate. Heavy on the whipped cream.

As I sat sipping the drink at my kitchen table at 2:50 am, I took a deep breath and tried to analyze my own dream. It had to be telling me _something--_or so the newest best-seller Tina'd been recommending to me had pontificated. I carefully examined the dream again, and tried my damnedest to give it some kind of common-sense analysis.

I'd been in a grand ballroom, something that looked a lot like Versailles Palace in France. Only there had been floor to ceiling mirrors everywhere. Did the Versailles Palace have mirrors? I didn't remember from the Discovery channel special I'd seen once if it did or it didn't--and I guess that was beside the point anyway. Why did I think I was in a palace in France? Okay, so I was going to London in 2 weeks or so. That had nothing to do with _Paris_. Unless it was my Grandma Mazur's comment about working in Paris or Rome on her non-existent photo shoot as a lingerie supermodel? Now _that_ was more likely! I'd go with that for an answer.

I'd been dressed in an ornate gold-brocaded gown, encrusted with rubies and emeralds, and I'd descended a circular stairway into a room filled with masked and caped revelers. But it wasn't Halloween. And I didn't feel very celebratory. In fact, I felt extremely uncomfortable, as if everyone in the room knew something really important that I didn't. But no one was talking. At least not once they caught sight of _me_.

They all quieted suddenly, and a terrible silence hung over the room as I slowly passed by each group of masked figures. They all seemed to be male. And they all seemed to be wearing the same kind of elaborately carved masks, and foppish costumes that reminded me of the footmen in the Cinderella story. They weren't French, which you'd kind of expect, especially considering that I'd now gotten my first sight of myself in the mirror and _I _was dressed in an elaborate wig a la Marie Antoinette. I guess that made sense if I was in the Versailles Palace?

Except I was blonde. Which I blamed on Tina and that idiot make-over website I'd logged into before heading to bed.

The masks the men wore were Italian--and I can't explain _how_ I knew it, I just _did--_like happens in dreams sometimes. So were the men's fancy costumes. Okay, Steph, this is the _Rome_ connection, right? Grandma Mazur had mentioned Paris and Rome over dinner. You're in Paris and the party-goers are Italian. There's a reasonable explanation for this. _Honestly._

The music started then, a really weird almost-orchestral sound that had me thinking Phantom of the Opera. I was half expecting said Phantom to pop out and scare the hell out of me. But he wasn't there.

But _someone_ was. Deep in the shadows.

He was watching me. Waiting for me just outside the ballroom, in a garden of roses. The moonlight shone down upon his costume and his mask, which were identical to those worn by the mysterious roomful of men.

I opened my mouth to speak, but amazingly I found that I had no voice.

He made no move towards me, just waited for me to walk to him. And I did. I was drawn to him, like the proverbial moth to a flame. Except--this felt _right_. I lost the sense of dread I'd had in the ballroom, and I knew--I just _knew_--that _this_ man was not going to hurt me. I was meant to be with him, always.

Suddenly, he took off his mask, and revealed his face.

It was Carlos.

_What the hell?_

What was my dream telling me? Was he supposed to be my Prince Charming? Was I supposed to be Cinderella, instead of Marie Antoinette? And who the hell were all those masked men? I had no clue what the hell _any_ of it meant, and trust me--I turned it over and over in my mind eight ways to Sunday.

Carlos looked over my shoulder, and pointed at the crowd of revelers. I turned slowly, and everyone began to unmask.

They had no faces.

None.

There was only blackness where their faces should have been, and then--suddenly--the masks fell to the ground, and the costumes as well. There was nothing there. No men. No one.

Just blackness everywhere.

And a now-deafening silence.

Alarmed, I looked back at Carlos, only to find that he too was gone.

I was alone.

I'd woken up then, and I was still shaken thinking about it. My stomach was doing flip-flops and a shiver actually went down my spine. It was beyond creepy. And I had no clue at all what any of it meant.

Frankly, I wasn't really all that anxious to press much further with my dream analysis once I reached the theory that maybe my sub-conscious was telling me that none of what I had with Carlos was real.

Except _that _made no sense. The most real feeling I'd had in the dream had come when I had met the man who turned out to be Carlos. So, it then followed--didn't it?--that my sub-conscious knew it _could_ trust him?

It was _everyone else _who wasn't real.

Except I didn't know who "_they_" were….so how could I guard against them?

And I didn't get why Carlos had disappeared after he'd told me to look at them and see them for who they really were. Or, more correctly, for who they really _weren't_.

_Damn! _Now I had given myself a headache as well as a stomach ache! And I didn't particularly want to go back to sleep, for fear I'd end up back in that creepy old dream again. Or one even _more_ creepy.

I finished my hot chocolate, then--stalling--made myself another one. I couldn't call anyone at this hour of the morning, so I had to suck it up and figure out how to get back to sleep and have pleasant dreams for a change.

Then I remembered reading an article in _Cosmo_ a few months ago--something about 'making your own dreams a reality'. It purported to be a fool-proof method to ensure yourself happy dreams, and nothing but happy dreams. I hot-footed it into the living room and hunted around for my copy of the magazine, which I finally found tucked into a pile of other magazines I'd never gotten around to completely finishing.

Fine.

I leafed through until I got to the article, which listed 5 steps that supposedly ensured that you'd have these 'designer dreams' as the author called them. I was all for it. Actually, I would have settled for just a guarantee that I wouldn't end up in the bizarre creepy dream again….but a 'designer dream' of my choice would certainly be most welcome.

_Step one: No alcohol or drugs._

Too late. I'd had that damned glass of wine over dinner. Wait! Was that the reason I had the dream in the first place? That settled it: no more drinking for you, Steph!

_Step two: Relax with a leisurely warm bath._

Couldn't hurt. I trucked back upstairs, and filled the tub with bubble bath before undressing, clipping my hair up, and climbing into the warm water. It was almost 4am when I emerged from the bath and tossed on my pj's once again.

_Step three: Close your eyes and think about your dream. Make it real in your head and live it so you can prepare to dream it._

I slipped into bed, clutching one of my favorite photos of Carlos, which I'd taken the evening we'd danced at Stella and Patrick's wedding.

Concentrating on his handsome face, I designed myself a real hum-dinger of an erotic dream in which we slow kissed for the longest time before finally undressing each other and falling into bed. What we did between the sheets raised my temperature more than the warm bath had…and _that_ was no lie! I closed my eyes, and began living the dream to the extent that I needed my freaking shower massager to ease the um….._pain_ of it all.

I didn't remember the shower massager as either step four or five. _Damn! _Okay, no shower massager. I'd be a good little girl and follow directions for once.

_Step four: Tell yourself your dream in detail._

Talk about feeling creepy! I was giving myself my own personal obscene phone call! Still, if it guaranteed me an erotic 'designer dream' of Carlos, I was going to _go for it_! After all, no one needed to know that I was lying in bed alone after 4am and talking to myself, telling myself that I loved me and lusted after me and wanted to fuck me all night long. Somehow I didn't think anyone would believe me about any of this craziness, anyway.

_Step five: Deep breathe, slow and steady. Let yourself fall into your dream._

Fine, I could stop talking to myself now and start heavy breathing. Why the hell was I still thinking about obscene phone calls? I was working on Step five now! _Damn! _It would be just my luck to dream of some faceless Italian man in Paris making an obscene phone call to me. Or even worse, making one to _Carlos_!

Crap! Now I was _really_ creeped out!

I groaned in utter frustration, flopping over on my side and belting the hell out of my poor pillow as I struggled for a comfortable position in which to sleep. My mind was anything but calm and focused.

I was sooooo going to fuck up this 'designer dream' shit!

"Please don't let me have that bizarre Marie Antoinette dream again!" I muttered to whatever Power-That-Be decided what your dreams would be. "I want a hot naked Carlos dream tonight! _Any _hot naked Carlos dream! _Come on, Steph! _Come through for us! Forget the ballroom! Forget the masks! Concentrate on stripping Carlos naked. You can do it. You can do it."

I think I sounded more like the Little Engine That Could than anything else.

But it worked.

Except I was still _blonde_.

Oh, well. I was still _me_--and Carlos was making love to _me_, not some other woman. Which I have to tell you felt _damned good_. I was purring in satisfaction now, as Carlos and I moved from slow kissing on the bed to some _other_ kind of kissing a little further down my body--if you get my drift.

This was one hell of a designer dream!

I was on my back, while Carlos trailed long deliciously satisfying kisses from my forehead, down my nose, over my throat, my shoulders, my breasts, my stomach, and lower, lower, lower.

Candles flickered, and I felt myself falling into the dream even further, as Carlos demonstrated once again how he'd completely ruined me for all other men. His tongue--dear God--that miraculously skillful tongue of his did things between my legs that other men couldn't do even with their cocks.

I was crying out in pleasure now, and the orgasms were non-stop as he did his own version of deep breathing.

Then suddenly we were in a doctor's office.

Don't ask me how _that_ happened--or why. But we were there. I was blonde again. I was in Carlos' arms, and we were kissing like we'd invented it. No one--I mean _no one_--kisses the way Carlos Manoso can. _Impossible. _The man is the Eighth Wonder of the both the Ancient and the Modern Worlds. I say this totally seriously and completely objectively.

Trust me, the man's mouth and tongue should be bronzed in a museum somewhere. So should _another_ part of him. But we were just getting there.

His shirt was off. Just vanished. _Poof! _Into thin air. I was suddenly flat on my back, on the examination table, and Dr. Manoso was giving me a very very thorough exam and an extremely satisfying and effective cure for what had long ailed me: a deep ache between my legs that only he could take away.

Now we get to the _other_ part of Carlos that should be bronzed in a museum as a true treasure beyond any price. And you all know what _that _is--all 11 or so inches of it. Or so. It honestly felt more like 15 inches or so inside of me. The man was carrying a _very _big club, what can I say?

Then suddenly he was _under _me, and I was riding him like Zorro. I mean, really really _riding_ the man--like we were on the final lap in the Kentucky Derby or something. He was more than appreciative, too. In fact, _he_ was making most of the noise now, and I was getting a very strong feeling that he was willing to have a certain portion of _my _anatomy bronzed, as well. He was coming suddenly, and I memorized his face, loving him, and loving the fact that I could make this strong controlled man completely lose it in the best way possible.

The dream shifted then to another candlelit room, and we were again making love, the feelings washing all through my body and giving me such a sense of contentment and pleasure that when I finally woke up, I wasn't really sure that we _hadn't_ actually made love.

Except that I was alone. And my hands were _outside_ the covers, not inside. _Damn! _I'd have to pay a hell of a lot more attention to those throw-away _Cosmo_ articles from now on!

Who knew that the best dream I'd ever had would come, courtesy of myself and a 5 step formula that I'd never heard of before?

I forgot all about the Versailles Palace and Marie Antoinette, and instead focused on writing myself another really hot dream.

This one I might or might not have had: I don't remember.

But when I woke a little before 9am on Friday, it was with a smile on my face and some very happy memories.

_To see the photo of Carlos that Stephanie used to inspire her dream--and to see a video of the dream itself--go to the links in MY PROFILE. Do not view the video if you are not over 18 (actually I don't think YouTube would let you anyway). But you get the idea, lol, it's her erotic dream and it's not for underage viewers._


	79. Chapter 79

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. Hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 79

I'd done a quick donut run to the local Dunkin Donuts, and I was happily surfing the net about 11am, my third cup of coffee at my side. I was a woman on a mission: I wanted to find the most beautiful memory box I could, personalized _exactly_ the way I wanted it, and designed to keep all of my special treasures safe.

Finally, after almost 45 minutes of patient searching, I found the perfect memory box! For $95, ColorBakery promised to provide me with a custom painting of any photo I uploaded to their site, in preparation for it to be printed on any of their dozens and dozens of different products.

One of the products they sold just happened to be a 12.5" square box, handcrafted from Vermont maple, and taking a 12" square ceramic tile inset (perfect for what artwork I had in mind). The box was a generous 3.2" deep, and hand-rubbed to a beautiful glow. It was $190, and I knew that I _had_ to have it! If I ordered it today, I might even have it by Christmas, as a special _from-me-to-me _gift!

I grabbed my credit card, selected a photo of Carlos that I'd taken the night we went to _Rosa's_, and in moments, I'd placed my order.

I'd also noticed that they sold handmade porcelain heart necklace pendants, sized at 1.5" in diameter and threaded on a long black silk cord necklace. That was only $16, so I added it onto my order. I was going to have Carlos' photo painted on both the box and the necklace! That way I could wear the necklace daily and keep him close to my heart in every way there was.

Grinning happily, I logged off the site before I was tempted to imprint his photo on a clock, a serving tray, a scarf…or any other of the dozens of items they were offering for sale. Hell, they even sold custom wall murals, furniture and God only knows _what _else. I did make myself a note of the website though: I could have a beautiful piece of wall art designed for the living room over the fireplace. Maybe a colorful floral piece like they featured on their website?

I sighed in satisfaction, delighted with my purchases, and logged off the computer after answering my email. It was almost noon now, and I was thinking about heading into the office, despite the fact that it was the day after Thanksgiving and we'd be closed for business. I had some ideas for new lingerie in mind, and I could wander down to the showroom and sort through the fabrics available. It was a thought. It was damned sure better than going out to the Mall on Black Friday! Mary Lou had suggested we go, but there was no power on earth that was going to get me out shopping today. Not anywhere other than on the internet, that is.

Padding into the kitchen, I washed out my coffee mug and popped it and my plate into the dishwasher. Moments later I was back into the living room, just as CNN interrupted with breaking news that sent my plans for the day completely out of my mind, replacing it with the kind of chilled-to-the-bone fear I'd never felt before in my life.

"---unconfirmed reports are that the C-130 Hercules military transport plane, which crashed just moments after take-off from a remote region in Southern Iraq killing all 21 soldiers on board, was part of a covert mission undertaken by an elite Delta Force team to locate and eradicate an insurgent---"

I think I blacked out for a few minutes, because I can't remember hearing anything other than "Iraq", "killing all 21 soldiers on board" and "Delta Force". I honestly thought I was going to throw up, and I clasped my hands to my mouth as I shakenly moved my now-rubbery legs to the sofa, where I all but collapsed in shock and mounting terror.

Was _this _what my dream last night had warned me of?

Oh, God, was _Carlos_ on that plane? Was he dead? Were all the men on his team dead, as well? Was that why everyone had dropped their masks and disappeared into blackness?

Fear overtook me, and I found myself shivering, my stomach rolling and my mind racing with crazy terrible thoughts. What if he _were_ on that plane? What if he _were _dead? How would I know? It was a covert mission. In Iraq. It was Delta Force. How would I ever find out if Carlos was among the dead?

Was I giving it power by even _thinking _about it? Should I not tempt Fate and just refuse to consider the possibility at all? Did that make sense?

What the hell _was _the reasonable thing to do now?

And how could _reason_ help me at all if--God forbid--Carlos _were _dead?

_God._

That was it.

Saint Michael.

I'd given Carlos that St. Michael's medal to wear, and he'd promised me he'd never take it off. Saint Michael would protect him. He would be safe. He was Superman. Saint Michael would watch over my Carlos. He _had _to! Didn't he?

Oh, God, he was the patron saint of soldiers and he hadn't watched over _those_ 21 poor soldiers! Why would he watch over _Carlos_?

What would I do if he _didn't_?

I don't particularly consider myself a religious person, but believe me, I _turned _religious in that instant. I prayed harder than I'd ever prayed for anything in my life. I concentrated on deep breathing, having faith, and staying positive.

And I trusted my gut.

Carlos was going to be _safe_. He was _alive. _And that bizarre creepy dream I'd had, had meant something else entirely. I just needed to figure out what the hell it _was_.

But first, I needed to be somewhere.

Somewhere I could feel closer to God. Somewhere I could feel more assured that I would have my prayers answered. And somewhere where I didn't have to listen to the talking heads on CNN--who still knew almost _nothing_--rehash the plane crash dozens of times, complete with stock photos of other horrible plane crashes of the past few years.

Why the hell did they _do_ things like that, anyway? I didn't need to know how many times the Hercules C-130 plane had crashed over the last few years. I didn't need to know how many fatalities those other accidents had resulted in. No one did.

I just needed a guarantee that the man I loved wasn't on _this _one.

Blinking back tears, I grabbed my handbag and my jacket and ran for the car. _I was going to church!_

Traffic was lighter than I'd expected it to be--I guess I wasn't the only one who wasn't interested in shopping this Black Friday--and less than a half hour later I found myself walking up the side aisle of Sacred Heart Cathedral Basilica in Newark. I'd decided to go to Carlos' home parish--the church in which I planned to marry him--and spend as much time as I needed to, lighting candles and saying prayers, until I felt that cold fear drain out of my body. I had no idea how long that would be.

I blessed myself with holy water, and walked to the front of the church, where I knelt and began to pray for Carlos and for all of the brave men and women in harm's way. I closed my eyes and felt myself calming, my breathing finally evening out and that sense of foreboding starting to disappear.

After almost 45 minutes of constant prayer, I felt as if my legs could carry me again. I stood and moved down the aisle to one of the smaller altars, where I could light candles to the Blessed Mother.

That's when I saw her.

Rosa.

She was dressed in the same black and white checked coat she'd worn when she visited my office, and she was lost in prayer, murmuring in Spanish and crying as if her heart had been broken beyond repair.

Clearly, she'd heard about the plane crash, as well. But the last news I'd heard--on the car radio just moments before I'd parked the car--was that they were not releasing the names of the men who had been killed, pending the notification of their next of kin.

Rosa couldn't have any more information than I did. She was just scared, like me. Who the hell knew? Maybe she'd come here dozens and dozens of times over the many years that her Carlito had been away on military duty? Maybe this was the latest in a long line of times she'd cried at televised reports that had later turned out to be false alarms?

Yes, that was it.

A false alarm.

It _had _to be.

I walked over to her, enveloping her in a warm embrace, trying to give comfort to a woman who was clearly in tremendous pain.

"Carlos is all right," I said softly, "He wasn't on that plane, Rosa. I'd know if he were. And he _wasn't_. He's safe, he's perfectly safe, and he's going to come home to _both_ of us. We have to believe that."

To my surprise, my voice was steady, and I found myself realizing that I honestly _believed_ what I was saying, 100%. I could only attribute it to the power of prayer, because I'd been a complete wreck when I'd gotten here, 45 minutes or so ago.

Rosa's frail hand clasped mine, and she allowed herself to be folded into an embrace. I dug into my handbag for a tissue, and she wiped her eyes, and forced herself to take a deep breath. Her voice was hardly more than a whisper.

"Si, si, Stephanie. You are right, my querida niña. I am a foolish old woman with many fears. Dear Carlito is well, he was not on that terrible flight. He is indeed safe, you are right and I cry for nothing."

I nodded, and she allowed me to walk her over to a seat. We sat together, my arm around her, her hand patting my knee as she struggled to stop her tears.

"They put these things on television and they scare people like us into thinking that our loved ones are on the plane," I decided, selling myself and her on a new version of history. "And actually, they don't know _what_ they're talking about. Probably _no one _was on the plane. Probably just the pilot, I mean. Yeah, that's it: it was probably _empty_. They don't know what they're talking about. They shouldn't be allowed to talk about things they don't know anything about."

Rosa patted my knee faster and her head nodded, and I was glad to see that her tears had finally stopped.

"My beloved Carlito chose his woman well," she said softly, "She is brave and she is kind. She puts her fear aside in order to comfort me. And she comes to ask God to watch over him. This is how I know that all will be well. I have done a terrible wrong, and God knows it. But you--you have done nothing that deserves to be punished. God will keep my beloved niño Carlito safe for you."

I blinked, trying to follow her reasoning. What had this woman done that she considered "a terrible wrong"--so wrong that God would punish her by taking the life of a young man she loved so much?

This was the latest in a long list of questions that I had no answers for. She'd told me yesterday that she needed my "forgiveness" because it was not "fair" of her to sit face to face with me in my home "at this time" to discuss Carlos.

_Carlito_, not Carlos.

She almost always called him _Carlito_.

And now, "my beloved _niño,_ Carlito". Her beloved boy, little Carlos.

They'd spent many Thanksgivings together at her table, she'd said. And at _Rosa's_, her family's restaurant. Not at the Manoso home, as one might have expected Carlos to do.

She told stories of him, with intimate details that only a very very close friend of the family would know.

She had photos of him from every stage of his life, from infancy to manhood.

During many long happy hours, she'd written, she'd been looking for the photos in her _family _photo albums.

She had Blackie, his prized childhood toy. A toy only a _mother_ should have.

Or someone else equally close.

The strangest sense of calm came upon me, and I felt as if I were coming out of a long dark tunnel that had far too long surrounded me, blinding me to the truth.

I remembered how shaken--really really uncharacteristically shaken--Carlos had been when he'd told me that we'd been seen having sex in the Porsche in the parking lot of the restaurant. By Rosa.

Now it all suddenly made sense.

Why she'd gone all-out to get to know me. To visit me at my office. To leave envelopes of letters and photos for me. To share her memories of her beloved niño Carlito with me. And why she'd been so beyond delighted at every piece of information I'd shared with her. Why it meant so much to her to have our child named after her.

I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath.

Then I turned to her, and said quietly, "Rosa? Carlos is not just a friend of your family, is he? Carlos is your grandson."

There was a long silence, and I thought for a moment that she wasn't going to reply.

Then her head nodded, and she whispered softly, "Si. I can not lie to you, Stephanie, my child. Especially not in God's house. Carlito es mi nieto. My beloved grandson."

It explained _everything--_even my bizarre dream! Everyone had worn a mask in front of me. The same mask. And the same type of clothes. Because they were all members of the same _family_.

No one was who they appeared to be.

That's what Carlos--and my subconscious--had been trying to tell me!

If Carlos was Rosa's _grandson_, and Papa was her _son_…then Papa was Carlos' _father_. The father he was at odds with for most of his life. The father who preferred his older brother to him. The father who'd hurt him so much.

_Of course!_

That meant that Alejandro was his _brother_. The brother who had followed his father into the family business, while Carlos had chosen a different path.

Mateo was not merely Carlos' friend, and his attorney. He was Papa's---no, damn it--_Ricardo Manoso's _nephew. Which made him Carlos and Alejandro's _cousin_. The very same cousin, I was willing to bet, that he'd lived with for many years when his father and his grandfather--Rosa's late old-World husband--had thrown young Carlos out of the house for running with gangs.

And Teresa--who'd done the photo shoot for _Babe!_--was Carlos' _mother_!

What a damned stupid fool I'd been! I'd been introduced to Carlos' family while Carlos was here in Newark, for the most part--at least to his father, his brother and his cousin--and I hadn't even _known_ it! How could I?

_This _was why Rosa had begged me in her first letter not to be angry at Carlos, but to realize that he did things as he did for a reason. Then she'd proceeded to tell me about how nosy and bossy some of the women in his family were. She'd been preparing me for the moment that I would find out that Carlos had deliberately chosen not to introduce me to his family!

I looked over at her and found her watching me closely, seeing my no-doubt expressive face as all the truths hit me one after another.

"I think it is time that we have that cup of tea at my home, Rosa," I said, "And share that face to face talk we've put off for far too long."

She nodded, and together we made our way down the aisle and out into the daylight.

_Remember to check out my TNH Photo Album for the latest pics from this chapter! The link is in MY PROFILE._


	80. Chapter 80

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. I've added new pics of Tank, Lester and Keira for this new chapter, so check them out if you'd like!_

A/N: I've had to put my TNH writing on hiatus for the past several months to deal with some serious health problems. But I'm feeling much better now (knock wood) so I hope I can get back to updating the story weekly or so. That's my aim, anyway. Thanks so much to those of you who sent me emails asking how I was, and reviews telling me how much you enjoy TNH. Trust me, you helped me considerably at a time when I needed the emotional support! Sorry I didn't have the energy to thank each one of you personally, but please know that I deeply appreciate your kindness! Without further ado, here is the new chapter of TNH. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 80

"This is a very pretty car, Stephanie," Rosa said, settling herself into the luxurious dark grey leather interior, "I've never been in a car this lovely before."

"Carlos gave it to me as an early Christmas present," I said softly, looking over at her. "He knew I loved it, because he rented one just like it the night we went to _Rosa's_, and…wait! What am I telling _you_ this for? You saw it there." I blushed, suddenly remembering what _else_ she'd seen that night in the parking lot, as Carlos and I had had wild uninhibited sex in the front seat. "Oh, God, this is so _embarrassing_! I mean, it was bad enough _before_. But _now_, knowing you're Carlos' grandmother…" I was beyond mortified.

"His Abuela Rosa, yes." Smiling, Rosa patted my knee reassuringly, "I told you in my letters, querida niña, that I understand all too well about that. I am a woman, after all. And my handsome Carlito, he is like catnip, yes?"

"That's for sure," I sighed, pulling out into traffic, "The man is just too gorgeous for his own good. I didn't have a chance in the world once I saw him, Rosa. And that was even _before _he smiled at me. He has a lethal smile."

She laughed merrily, "And don't think he doesn't know it, my dear. He used it quite shamelessly to get out of all sorts of childhood scrapes, the little scamp! Oh, yes! Carlos was a handful growing up, for sure. So different from his always obedient brother Alejandro and his four sisters. Carlito--_ah_! I have such stories to tell you! I confess that I am so glad you know the truth now: I've been wanting for so long to have this talk with you, Stephanie. But I couldn't accept your generous invitation, and then sit in your home and lie to your face. A lie of omission, it would have been--but still a lie. It would not be fair to you. No, it would not have been right. Not at all."

"That hasn't stopped your son _Rico_ any," I said bitterly, "He's been giving me cooking lessons on Monday nights, and helping me plan my wedding--and all this time he hasn't said one single word about who he _really_ is. I can't believe it! You know, he actually _volunteered_ to come to my house and teach me how to cook Cuban food for Carlos…"

"Ahh! That one! My son Ricardo is an complete _idiot, _alas," Rosa opined, shrugging dismissively. "_I_ take no responsibility for that, mind you. He did not get his stupidity genes from _me_! Teresa, his poor wife, actually fears he is meeting his mistress on Monday nights! That is why she came with me to the photo shoot: she wanted to look beautiful, and to show her straying husband in a photo all that he was missing, having shamed her with another woman."

"Oh my God! What a mess! You know, I suspected as much," I sighed, then rolled my eyes, "Not about the photo shoot: of course, I didn't know why she came with you that day. But that she would probably think he was seeing another woman? Oh yeah, I was certain his wife would be suspicious of _that_. Disappearing every Monday night for hours on end. Especially when he told me about how romantic he suddenly was being, buying her jewelry and chocolates and lingerie…"

"Teresa actually decided to hire a private detective to follow him," Rosa snorted derisively. "Can you imagine the foolishness of it all?"

I almost crashed the Porsche into the SUV in front of us! "She did _what_?" I suddenly had very unpleasant visions of being dragged onto the front page of the local newspapers as 'the Other Woman' in the Manoso's very public, very nasty divorce. I could see my now-recognizable face plastered all over the supermarket tabloids: Books/Plum Designs in ruin, and all of my friends on the street job-less! My rapidly-beating heart was caught somewhere in the region of my throat.

"No, no, she hasn't actually gone that far, don't worry," Rosa assured me hastily, "I talked her out of it. But Ricardo--and he hasn't been _Rico_ since grade school, the old fool--has been acting anything but like himself for the last couple of weeks. He's stepped in things royally with both Teresa _and _Alejandro. He's upset them both dreadfully! I suspect he's been doing some deep thinking, and doesn't like what he sees about himself. It's about time, that is what I think."

"Well _I_ don't much like him, either, right about now," I confided, "I feel like a Grade A first-class _idiot. _He's been putting one over on me since that first night we met. '_Call me Papa_', my ass! Excuse my French!" I apologized, suddenly remembering to whom I was speaking.

She chuckled, "No big shock to me, Stephanie, really…I assure you that I'm not quite as innocent and unassuming as I appear. I've heard those words, and I've even _used _them once or twice. Or should I say, the Spanish equivalent. Oh, yes, I can be quite wicked when I've of a mind to be!"

I grinned, "Really? Do tell?" This woman grew more intriguing by the minute!

"Ricardo will have an apoplectic _fit_ when my magazine ad comes out," she chortled happily, "Mine and Teresa's both, come to think of it. It so serves him right! I can't wait to see his face when it happens! That I will enjoy very much, I confess. As will Teresa, I am certain."

"I'm still amazed you agreed to do it at all," I admitted, hitting the gas as we sailed onto the highway now, heading towards home.

Rosa had dismissed Pedro for the time being, and he was to meet her outside my town-home in 2½ hours. We were planning on having quite a long talk for ourselves, and saw no need for Pedro to be held hostage outside while we chatted.

"I told you why I did so," she said quietly, "I've always dreamed of the excitement of being a celebrity. I was so used to sitting unnoticed by all, overlooked because I was some frail old woman who had to be protected from life."

"That sucks," I sighed, "I mean…"

"Don't edit your words around me, child," she begged me, "Truly, it does my heart good to be with you. You know I have only told you the truth in my letters. I spoke from my heart, always."

"I know that." I'd had no doubt of it--none at all! I wasn't angry at Rosa, I knew that much. But her son--well, _that_ was a different story! I hadn't had time yet to consider how I felt towards Mateo, Alejandro--or Carlos. But of course, I _loved_ Carlos, so although I was hurt and upset by his charade, I knew I wouldn't let his decision to keep his family a secret from me change my feelings for him in any way. I missed him too damned much to hold any grudges at all when at last we were reunited.

"I had wondered how long it would take you to guess who I am. I was really getting quite impatient for it to finally dawn on you, I confess."

I thought for a moment I hadn't heard her right. "_What_?"

She gave me an impish grin, "Madre de Dios! I gave you enough _clues_, Stephanie!"

Again, I almost crashed the car! She'd been _trying _to out herself to me?

"Dear girl, I read those letters over dozens of times before I sent them to you. I could have changed any of the language, if I'd cared to." Rosa's eyes sparkled mischievously, "I _didn't_. Deliberately. I promised myself from the very start that I would always write from the heart, and not try to mislead you, as my son and the others were doing. And if you caught on--_when_ you finally did--then I'd quite happily admit the truth to you. All of it! Because, after all, _I_ hadn't made that ridiculous deal with Carlito."

Now my head was _really_ spinning! "_Deal_? What deal with Carlito--I mean, _Carlos_? Who made a deal with Carlos? And when did all this happen?" I felt like Alice in Wonderland must have, when she'd fallen down the Rabbit-hole!

"It's quite a long story, Stephanie," she sighed, "But to understand what's been going on here, you need to know it _all_! So I'll start when Carlos came home to visit our family on Saturday…"

"So he _did_ go to see his family! He told me only that he was meeting friends for breakfast, then he had an important party he was going to. I was at a wedding, for my friend Stella. She works in the company too. But we didn't own Books/Plum Designs back then. We all worked at EE Martin, but that was before the FBI closed it down. You don't know anything about that, but…"

Rosa giggled mischievously, "I know enough, Stephanie. I warned you in my letter that Carlito did what he did--not introduce you to his family, I mean--because the women in it were _nosy_. I told you, if you remember, that his grandmother was nosy too. I am. _Very. _That's how all this started."

Then she started to tell me the story from the beginning. I sat open-mouthed behind the wheel as Rosa confessed the whole story. She'd been eavesdropping at the door when Carlos had asked his father and his brother to witness the revised Will that Mateo had drawn up at his request. A Will that left everything he owned to the woman he loved, one Stephanie Mazur.

"That's my Grandmother's name: Mazur, I mean." I interrupted, "Edna Mazur. I guess Carlos thought she was my _father's _mother, because my mother is so different from my Grandmother. Sometimes I find it impossible to believe they're related, myself. How can I put this politely?" Putting aside my shock that Carlos had changed his Will to make me his beneficiary, I bit my lip and tried my best to explain my rather unique family to Rosa Manoso. I started with the story of my Grandmother and Mr. Graznewski, and their mutual fascination with his unfortunately (for them both) all-too-miniscule wee-wee…

"Your Grandmother is a registered sex offender? _Officially_?" Rosa laughed merrily, "Oh, my dear girl, this is too _perfect_! I can't wait to meet her! And I'm sure she'll be delighted to meet our handsome Carlito, yes? That poor boy will not know what hit him, I am certain! I'm going to enjoy being part of your family!"

We were pulling into my garage about then. By mutual agreement, Rosa and I broke off our conversation long enough for me to take her on a brief tour of the townhouse, to introduce her to Rex (who was sleeping half in/half out of his soup can and didn't bother to stir), and to make us a pot of tea, before we finally settled in the family room to resume our long-awaited chat.

By this time, we were gabbing like old friends, and so I kicked off my shoes and tucked my legs under me as I settled on the sofa. Rosa was happily examining the many framed photos of Carlos I had everywhere, and I took a few moments to fire up my printer to make her copies of them all. It was the least I could do, after all the photos she'd given me of him!

We'd both been oh-so-careful to avoid any mention at all of the tragic plane crash that had led to our earlier meeting--I wasn't the only one who liked living in a land of denial, it seemed. But the fear was still there, lurking in our hearts, and I had no clue at all how we were going to deal with it.

Rosa asked to use the bathroom, and while she was gone, I took the opportunity to check my answering machine which had been blinking wildly. There were loving and encouraging messages from both Tina and Mary Lou, who'd both heard the CNN report and had reacted to the mention of Delta Force by reaching out to comfort me in this fearful time. There was also a message from Melinda, whose Uncle John had been Delta Force years ago, and whom I had asked to find out what their dress uniform (if any) looked like. And there were messages from Mateo, Ricardo and Alejandro, as well! It seemed everyone who knew Carlos was in Delta Force had thought to check on my emotional well-being. I had the best friends!

I called Melinda first. Why? I was hoping she could ask her Uncle John to pull strings and find out from his Delta Force contacts if Ricardo Carlos Manoso was one of the names of the victims in the plane crash. I was desperate to know! She promised to do her best to find out for me, but it turned out that she'd called to tell me that her uncle had emailed her a photo of friends wearing the Delta Force dress uniform. She'd forwarded the photo to me: it should be waiting in my in-box. I thanked her, and hung up as Rosa entered the room.

"Any news?" Rosa asked quietly.

I wasn't sure how much she'd heard, but I explained who had called and she nodded.

"Everyone at home is deep in prayer, but of course I had to go to the church and light candles. I always feel better that way--as if God hears my prayers louder than the others. I--how do you say?--feel as if I march to the head of the line. I light a lot of candles."

Reaching over, I drew her into a hug. We clung together for a few minutes, and drew strength from each other.

"We're all worried for nothing, Rosa," I said determinedly. "It's a terrible mistake. Like I said before: it was an empty plane. The news reports were wrong. Carlos wasn't on that plane, or we'd feel it, both you and I. Besides--think _logically_! He left for his mission in early October! It's now the end of November! What would he be doing on a plane now? He'd already be in the Middle East, doing whatever he had to do. Kicking ass and saving the World!"

"Like Superman, yes?" Rosa smiled, and I nodded encouragingly.

"Exactly. So we are worried about nothing."

"You should return your calls, child, and I'll make us more tea." Rosa gave me a peck on the cheek and moved into the kitchen, giving me privacy to make my calls.

I phoned Tina and Mary Lou, and assured them both that I was fine and not worried in the least that Carlos was lost. I reiterated my logical argument, and both friends jumped on it gratefully. Nope, no way would Carlos be on a plane _now_: he was there in Iraq or wherever, on the ground doing his job, and there was nothing more to be worried about! Both friends offered to come over and keep me company; but I declined, reluctant to mention that Rosa was here--and who exactly Rosa had turned out to be. I wasn't in the mood to prolong the phone calls.

I telephoned Mateo next. He answered immediately, his voice strong and reassuring. He'd just wanted to lend support to me, knowing I'd be an emotional wreck once I'd heard the report on air. Putting aside my hurt and my anger at the part he'd played in this charade, I assured him that I was hanging tough and that I'd _know_ if Carlos were in trouble--and he _wasn't_. He agreed.

"I do need to meet with you about something, though." I bit my lip, trying to figure out how best to handle this. I wanted to give Mateo a chance to come clean about who he really was, and I had an idea how to do it. All I needed was an opportunity to meet him alone.

"A problem?" His voice sounded concerned.

"Um…..no, not really. A business question. An opportunity, I guess you could say. I don't want to get into it over the phone, Mateo. Especially not--today of all days. Can we possibly meet in my office sometime on Monday?"

"Monday afternoon, say, 2:30? That work for you, Stephanie?"

"Perfectly. See you then, Mateo. And thanks for calling."

I hung up as Rosa appeared with our tea. There was no doubt she'd overheard at least part of the conversation, and her eyes lit with amusement.

"Mateo, he is, how you say? In for it now, yes?" She placed the tray on the coffee table and turned to watch me. "You will confront him with the truth?"

"In a manner of speaking, I will," I agreed. "I'm not going to tell him that I know you're Carlos' abuela. Or that you and I have met and talked. Your secret will be safe with me, Rosa, I promise you."

"I knew that, Stephanie. But how will you get Mateo to admit the truth?"

"I'm still working that part out, Rosa. But comes Monday afternoon, I'll have a fool-proof plan. I might just tell him I _know_ he's Carlos' cousin and challenge him to deny it if he can! I can say that there are too many things that have given him away. I can be vague on what they are: after all, _I'm_ not the guilty party here!"

"This is true. But is it wise?" she asked, softly.

"It's necessary. I need to have honesty in my relationships, Rosa. Mateo is too important to Carlos--and becoming a good friend to me, as well--to let dishonesty poison things between us. I need to know that I can trust him to tell me the truth, always. As a friend. As a lawyer. As a future brother-in-law, in essence. Surely you understand?"

"I do. I have never liked this shroud of lies that has been thrown around the ones Carlito loves, as a result of this ridiculous deal."

Which got us back to the subject again.

"You told me, basically, that Papa--damn, I mean Ricardo!--all but blackmailed Carlos into bringing me to _Rosa's_ that night and introducing me to him?" The more I thought about that night, the angrier I got. All that clever double-edged conversation they'd had while I sat oblivious to the insults Ricardo was making to his own son.

"_Don't you agree with me, Estefanía, that a man should pass his business to his sons, and that any son should be proud to step into his father's shoes?" _

"_I believe a son owes a duty to a father. To neglect that duty is to bring shame upon the son."_

"_It is a son's duty to his family to step into his father's shoes and carry the dream on to a new generation."_

"_I am very proud of my son…Alejandro. Unlike my other son, Alejandro will be a success."_

"_He has no interest in Rosa's, I'm afraid. He never comes in. He never asks about the business. He has absolutely no desire to be a part of the family business, Estefanía. He breaks his poor father's heart with his obstinacy."_

Ricardo--the bastard!--had been trying to enlist _my_ support to his campaign to make Carlos feel guilty because he had chosen to walk a different career path than the one his father wished. And I'd sat there unknowingly listening to him insult and provoke Carlos into losing his temper while his woman agreed that he had cause to be ashamed! I would never forgive Ricardo for that! Never! Thank God, I'd said nothing that would have hurt Carlos in any way. I thought back, remembering carefully my words that night:

"_Not all sons are suited to take over a family business, Papa. Some sons have different dreams than their fathers."_

"_To follow one's own dream does not mean that a child loves a parent any less. It simply means that they've found a different way to fly. "_

"_If a son is to be true to himself, it may be that he must disappoint his father by going another way. It should not bring shame on him for doing so--he is to be commended, I think, for recognizing the truth in his heart and following his dream. Certainly any father who loves his son would want his son to learn to fly, don't you agree?" _

Now I understood why Carlos had given me that loving smile and whispered, "Proud of you, Babe."

And to think--I'd walked right into a hell of a mess by deciding that we'd hold the wedding reception at _Rosa's_! No way in the world would that happen now! I had half a mind to call Ricardo right now and cancel the plans. Except that--no, I couldn't! It would sound as if I thought there was a chance at all that Carlos was on that plane…

"You are deep in thought, my dear." Rosa's voice interrupted my musings.

"Just thinking about that night," I admitted. Then I told her exactly what her son had said to Carlos--what he had tried to get me to agree with--and I saw Rosa's expressive brown eyes flash with a sudden anger.

"If my son were here now, I'd box his ears but good," she spit out, furiously. "He goes too far this time! _Dios! _Knowing as he did that Carlos has brought the woman he loves to meet him, Ricardo _still _must dig and dig and try to score points against his own son. For _what_? And to use Carlito's own woman against him--or try to? This makes me want to use a paddle on him, just like in the old days. Poor Carlito--to suffer this indignity at a time when he should have had nothing but love and encouragement and support from his family! Thank God you said what you did, Stephanie! You were a true blessing to my Carlito! It is no wonder he knows his future will be with you."

"I'm betting that Ricardo deliberately tried to get Carlos to lose his temper. So he would have had a perfect excuse to reveal himself as Carlos' father. Knowing that it was the last thing Carlos would have wanted to happen. Damn! I could throttle him! But he was so nice--I had no clue at all what was going on! None! Carlos kept his temper, he didn't let any of his father's barbs hit home. Not that he showed, anyway. I'm sure they still hurt."

"Ricardo needs to drop this foolishness about Carlito running _Rosa's_! Can you really see my Carlito--my strong, macho, danger-loving Carlito--in a _chef's apron_? Making pasta sauce all day and worrying if he has put too many onions in the stew? How ridiculous!" Rosa scoffed.

The thought was enough to make both of us laugh, breaking the mood.

"The last place Carlos would want to hold the wedding reception is at _Rosa's_, isn't it?"

She nodded, "He has no happy memories of that place. Except for the memories you gave him on that last night. He was happier than I had ever seen him, Stephanie. I tell you this in truth. I watched you both secretly, for so long! I came to the restaurant deliberately to see who the woman was who had won my dear Carlito's heart. Seeing me there put the fear of God into my son and my Carlito, as well!"

"I remember," I grinned, "He dragged me out of there so fast he almost dislocated my shoulder! I thought he was anxious for---other things." I blushed, recalling my risqué comments, which I now knew damned well that Rosa had overheard! Only _I_ could have put myself in the position of having Carlos' abuela hear me teasing him in Spanish about sucking my pussy and fucking me in the front seat of his Porsche!!

"You have a very expressive face," she laughed. "I was very wicked to go out to the parking lot to catch you two in the act, as it were. Do you forgive me?"

"You really rattled Carlos, you know," I revealed, telling her how edgy he'd been back at the hotel. "I had no idea. I kept pushing him until he finally admitted you'd seen us! But of course he didn't tell me who you were--not that you were his grandmother--his abuela. Just that you had known him since he was a baby, and that you were _the _Rosa of Rosa's."

"Poor Carlito," she cackled. "It is not often that anyone puts anything over on him. I did so enjoy seeing his face, though! It brought back many good memories of his childhood. I told you what a little mischievous scamp he was!"

She proceeded to give me a few examples of his naughtiness, and we were laughing happily when the phone rang.

I picked it up, half expecting it to be Ricardo or perhaps Alejandro--I hadn't yet gotten around to returning their calls, after all--and was taken completely by surprise when a deep unfamiliar voice came booming over the line.

"Is this Stephanie Plum?"

"Speaking," I said slowly, wondering who this was who could be calling me.

"You don't know me. My name is Pierre James. I'm a friend of Carlos'."

My heart leaped in my throat! "Is Carlos all right?" I could barely get the words out, and Rosa jumped up from the sofa and came over to my side.

"He's fine, he wasn't on the plane that went down. No need to worry about him, I promise you, Miss Plum."

"He wasn't on the plane! Carlos is fine!" I repeated, and Rosa's face grew incandescent with relief. "Oh, thank God! That's the best news I've had in ages, Mr. James!"

"Call me Tank: everybody does," came his laconic reply. "Carlos asked me to phone you and reassure you that he's safe and well. Like I said, he wasn't on that plane everyone on TV is reporting about. He asked me to tell you that Superman sends all his love to Wonder Woman. And that your date for April 6, 2010 is still on, and he's counting down the hours until you two can tie the knot. The man is crazy in love with you, Miss Plum. And I've known Carlos for years--you're the best thing that's ever happened to him, believe me."

"If you're going to tell me good news about Carlos, you can call me Stephanie," I smiled, turning the message over and over in my head, dizzy with relief. _Carlos was safe!! _

He laughed, a deep rumbling sound. "I hear ya, Stephanie. I can get a message back to him, but not right away…"

"Tell him I love him. Tell him I love him more every day. And tell him to stay low and watch himself and not get shot." My eyes were wet with tears of relief, and I felt tons lighter and ready to dance!

"We all--Carlos and the guys--saw that notorious You Tube video of yours. _Take This Job And Shove It_, I mean," he chuckled. "Gave us the best send-off we could possibly have. He was worried you were caught in that FBI raid, then he saw you come bopping out of the building with your cake--"

"He saw that?" I was incredulous.

"We were still in the States, but under lock-down. I can't talk about the details."

So Tank was Delta Force too?

"How can you call me if Carlos can't?"

"Orders changed," Tank said quietly. "Never mind the details. Carlos is overseas. I'm here. In the States. With another friend of yours. Or at least, he's going to be one." I could hear a man's voice in the background, but I couldn't make out what he was saying. Tank answered him, then replied to me, "Lester sends his love to his lady Tina."

"Lester is there with you?" This was curiouser and curiouser!

"Santos, will you shut the fuck up?" Tank groaned. "Sorry. Lover Boy here is anxious to hear more about the future Mrs. Lester Santos, he says."

"Guess he liked the photo, huh?" I laughed.

"He liked, all right," Tank assured me. "Carlos talked her up, big-time. Lester here is 100% sold. He's hoping to get her as sold on him as he is on her. I'm supposed to vouch for his ass, by the way. Which I do. He's a good guy. If a pain in the butt, sometimes."

"If you take a picture of him, I'll forward it to Tina," I offered.

"Done," he agreed, "Santos! Get your ass over here and smile for the camera. The little woman wants to see how purty you are."

There was laughter on the other end of the line, and a minute later the photo was apparently on the way.

"OH! I just remembered," I blurted out, "Tell Carlos I started my own business! It's a long story, but I'm now designing lingerie for my own company, Books/Plum Designs. I call my lingerie line _Babe_! If you check out the latest magazines, you'll see my face in the campaign. And Tina's. And a lot of other--familiar faces coming soon."

I grinned to myself, wondering what Carlos' face would look like when his mother and his abuela's ads hit next month! Not that he'd get to see them…but hey, maybe he _would_? Tank and Lester were in touch with him, they said. Surely they could send the ads to him in courier pouches or whatever. Although I doubted Uncle Sam would be too thrilled to have their top-secret operatives trading lingerie ads back and forth. But hey--you never know, right? I wasn't counting Carlos out of getting his hands on any information he wanted, no matter what the rules were! After all, he wasn't supposed to be passing this message on, was he? Technically?

"I'll tell him!" Tank whistled, "Lingerie, huh? You got any friends you can hook me up with, Stephanie? I'm much better looking than Santos, here. And much nicer."

"Snap a photo, I'll find you the perfect woman," I promised him. "Um--this message from Carlos? Are you going to be able to get word to his family that he's okay? Because I'm sure they have to be really really worried, too."

I couldn't exactly tell Tank that Rosa, Carlos' abuela, was actually right here with me now--or even that I knew Carlos' family at all. I wasn't certain how much of the story Carlos had shared with them. If he'd told them he was keeping his family a secret from me, it wouldn't go down well to let him know that his plan had all fallen apart while he'd been gone. I couldn't have Carlos upset over _that_, not when he had other more important things to worry about--like staying alive! But I knew that Ricardo and Teresa, and the family would be desperate for news.

"Don't worry," Tank assured me, "I know the Manosos. I'll make a call to let them know their boy is safe. Just--well--this conversation didn't happen. Okay, Stephanie?"

"I understand," I nodded, "You're supposed to be incommunicado and all that. Carlos told me."

"Smart lady. But, you know Superman: he gets around the rules when he needs to. This won't be the only call you'll get. Can't say when you'll get another, but Santos and I will be checking in with you whenever we can. Your man made us promise to do that, and we both owe him big-time for saving our asses more times than we can count."

"But none of these calls ever happened, right?" I nodded, smiling.

"That's what I'm sayin'," Tank agreed solemnly. "This is a very long wrong number. Don't call me back at this number unless it's an absolute emergency. But if you can give me your work number, your cell number, and your email addy, I'll promise you that you'll be hearing something regularly from either Santos or myself."

I hastily provided the information, and thanked him more times than I could count.

"You can thank me by finding me a good woman all my own," he laughed, "A lingerie model would be nice. Not one that's skin and bones, either: I like meat on a woman. Curves to hold onto, if you know what I mean."

"I hear you," I said, already working on the promise. "I've got someone in mind, let me see how things go. Maybe the next time I hear from you, I can send you a photo of your dream woman. How about that for a good deal?"

"It's a definite incentive for me to get back to you very soon," he laughed. "I like you, Stephanie Plum. Superman deserves a really fine woman, and I'm sure he found himself one in you. Keep your chin up, sweetheart, Carlos is a tough guy and he ain't going to pack it in now that he's found the woman he wants to raise a family with. I expect to be in the wedding party, so I've got myself a vested interest in keeping his fine Cuban ass safe."

"This is the best news I've gotten in like, forever, Tank. God bless you for taking the time to call me and ease my mind. Just tell Carlos I love him so much, I'm counting the days until he's back in my arms. Okay?"

"I'll tell him. Goodbye, sweetheart. Stay strong for your man. He's one in a million."

The call ended, and I checked my messages. Sure enough, moments later, there were two photos. One of Lester Santos, one of Tank James.

Rosa was herself busy on her cell phone by now, so I used the time to call Tina.

"Pick up, girl." I heard her mumbling as she did just that. "What's up?"

"Shit, shit, shit! I stubbed my toe on the damned coffee table!" she moaned. "Damn, that hurt! How are you doing, Stevie?"

"I'm doing super fantastic! Never mind how, but I am perfectly certain Carlos is fine and he's not one of the casualties of the plane crash."

"That's fantastic news! But--wait! How can you be certain?"

"A little bird told me. You can't ask the details because the phone call I just got never happened. Okay?"

"Okay. Yeah, Superman! He got word out to you, huh?"

"That's not all, either. I have a Lester Santos sighting. Literally. I'm sending the photo to your cell phone right now."

"Omigod! Omigod!" She wailed, seconds later. "That's him? He's hot, Stevie!"

"He sends his regards to--and I quote--the future Mrs. Lester Santos!"

"He did not!"

"Did too."

"Omigod!"

"So do I take it you've reconsidered dying your hair blonde?"

"Forget about that! Omigod, Stevie! This is really him? My Lester?"

"Carlos did good, yes?"

"He's the best!"

"He is all that and more. And I'm on a new matchmaking mission: another of Carlos' buddies wants a hook up. Is Keira seeing anyone, do you know?"

"I'm pretty sure she isn't. Not unless she met him in the last few days or so. Why? Have you got someone for her?"

"Possibly. He's a buddy of Carlos' and Lester's. His name is Pierre James, but his nickname is Tank. I'll send you his photo right now. What do you think? He likes full-figured women, he says."

"Lemme see." There was a moment, then she came back on. "Looks like a good guy."

"Very nice over the phone. Really sweet. He has a really great laugh."

"I can see Keira with him."

"I'll talk to her over the weekend, see what she says. But I could see them together too. Wouldn't that be something? Me and Carlos, you and Lester, and Keira and Tank! Oh, and Melinda sent me a pic of the Delta Force dress uniform. Haven't opened the email yet, but now that I know Carlos is safe…."

"You can breathe again. I get ya."

"Look, gotta go now. I'm gonna give Lou a quick call and let her know Carlos is safe. Talk to you tomorrow."

Moments later, I had relayed the good news to Mary Lou, who was ecstatic for me. Then, checking my watch, I looked questioningly to Rosa.

"Time's almost up. Do you have to go, or can you ask your driver to give you more time?"

She grinned, "I've already called Pedro. He's not coming until 5pm. And I called Teresa to tell her I met some friends and will be dining with them. So we have more time."

"Fantastic! Are you hungry? I can call out for something?"

"Why waste that fabulous kitchen of yours? I can whip us up something to eat in no time at all!"

"You don't mind?"

"Not at all! It relaxes me, child. By the way, I got a call moments ago from Pierre. He's a dear boy--he's been to Thanksgiving dinner with Carlos several times. He told me the same thing as he told you: Carlos is fine, he sends his love."

"You know Tank? Do tell! He asked me to find him a girlfriend." We headed out to my kitchen, and I started pumping Rosa for information. When I called Keira, I was going to be prepared!


	81. Chapter 81

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. _

Chapter 81

_Abuela Rosa's POV_

"Omigod! This is absolutely _delicious_!" Stephanie moaned loudly, her lovely blue eyes wide with delight as she speared a piece of succulent mango and carried it quickly to her waiting mouth. "What exactly do you call this, Rosa?"

"It is Pollo Agridulce--sweet and spicy chicken," I said, enjoying her all-too-obvious pleasure in my cooking. "I will write down the recipe for you, dear. It's not difficult to make at all--just a basic stir fry recipe with chicken, garlic and onions, and mangoes, all in a brown sugar and ginger sauce. Very tasty for a quick meal. And it's surprisingly filling, as well!"

"God, it's so _good_! I'm going to try to make this myself, I promise. Carlos likes it a lot, I bet?"

Her eyes lit up when she spoke her beloved's name, and my heart soared. This was indeed the perfect woman for my precious Carlito! She loved him deeply and would make it her mission in life to see that he was happy always. There would be many children for them, I was sure! And oh, how lovely those children would be!

I smiled now, and nodded as I considered her question. I was lost in fond memories for a few moments. "Carlito _loves_ this dish, for certain. It is one of his favorites. He always asks for it whenever I cook for him. He will be so happy to come home and know that his woman has learned how to cook all of his favorite foods in order to make him smile! He will be so proud of you, Stephanie! For that, as well as for all else you have accomplished while he is gone."

She was such a dear child, and such a joy to be with! I felt as if we had known each other for many years, and I knew that she held nothing back as she chattered away happily.

"I hope Tank can get a chance to tell Carlos about my new career designing lingerie," she grinned, "I mean, I kinda doubt he'll actually be able to _see_ the magazine ads where he is, but still…."

"You never know about _that_," I teased, seeing the hope in her very expressive face. "I think he'll make it his business to find out what those ads of yours look like--no matter _what_ the government thinks about it! Carlito is very much his own man; he answers to his own authority always. See how clever he was to arrange with his friends that we were told he was safe? Surely that was against the rules, and yet--it was _done_!"

"Yes, I know we'll all be able to sleep tonight knowing he's well! It actually worked out for the best, I guess: hearing about that plane crash. Not for the poor people on board, of course. I mean for _us_: meeting at the church as we did, finding out the truth and getting it out in the open--finally."

"I too am happy the truth is out," I admitted, "Now you must think on how you will reveal your knowledge to the men."

Stephanie nodded, sweeping her last forkful of chicken around the plate in order to cover it with the tasty sauce. "Actually, I've had a brainstorm on that. I told you I'm going to confront Mateo in my office Monday afternoon--tell him I know he's Carlos' cousin and fake him out until he admits the truth. I'm sure he'll tell me once I do. I had a pretty similar conversation with him when he brought the Porsche over to give to me." She popped the bite of chicken in her mouth and looked pleased with herself. "See, the thing is--he screwed up. Big-time. He was telling me that Carlos planned _everything_--the Porsche, the flowers, the jewelry, all of it--just like a military mission. How he wrote notes for me and told Mateo to deliver them at certain times--"

"Yes, you told me that," I smiled, "He is _very_ romantic, my Carlito. You are most fortunate, young lady: he is the _only_ Manoso male with that romance gene, alas."

"Except for his all-too-late-to-the-party Papa, that is," Steph snorted most disrespectfully.

We both giggled like children at my son's foolishness, which had caused Teresa to suspect his infidelity, and which--I had learned from my irate daughter-in-law--had resulted in him being barred from enjoying her marital favors until further notice.

"My son is indeed a fool." I sipped my tea, enjoying our companionship. "But he has very good taste in cookware, this I freely admit."

"Yeah, I know he does. It was really kind of him to buy them for me," she agreed, "And between you and me: I'm really gonna miss the cooking lessons, too."

"There is no reason why you should miss out on _anything_, Stephanie," I interjected smoothly. "I myself will teach you how to cook, if you wish it."

Her eyes sparkled, "You would? Honestly? Oh, that's fabulous! We can have a girls' night in! Can we do it weekly, Rosa, do you think?"

"Absolutely! Perhaps on Tuesdays? Starting this next Tuesday! That way you can fill me in on what will happen between you and Mateo on Monday afternoon. You were telling me that he had made an error before, which you caught him in?"

"Right, right! I forgot what I was saying for a minute there! Yeah, he did. Make a big mistake, I mean. See, what happened was, he was telling me that Carlos had planned everything down to the letter, left nothing at all to chance--"

"That is my Carlito," I acknowledged proudly.

"And suddenly I realized that it was no accident that Mateo of all people just happened to be at_ Rosa's _that night! So I hit him with it--and he folded. First, he looked like he'd been hit with a 2X4, then he finally admitted the truth. And he told me that Carlos had asked him to be there specifically so that he could meet me. But I was still under the delusion then that Mateo was his best friend and his attorney--not that he was his cousin, and basically his brother. That he didn't spill. At all."

"Naturally not. Because Carlos had made him promise not to."

"Exactly. Now if I'd been thinking more clearly--which I _wasn't_--I'd have wondered why Carlos picked _Rosa's_ for dinner, and taken note of the fact that Papa's words made him uncomfortable, and that Papa hadn't given me his name when we were introduced. And I would have realized that it was a coincidence--_not_--for Carlos' brother to be called Alex and the chef at _Rosa's_ to be Alejandro."

"You had no way to know any of that, Stephanie."

"No, I didn't. But looking back, I can see where I was the perfect stooge. I didn't ask any questions. None at all. I just figured _Rosa's_ was his favorite restaurant, and when he told me Papa was Mateo's uncle, that sort of explained why Mateo was there--and it all sort of went on from there. But to get back to what I was saying: when I hit Mateo with my suspicion--that it was a set-up that night, I mean--he did admit the truth. Or as much of it as I'd guessed at the time. So _this_ time, I'll just be more aggressive. Tell him I _know _he's Carlos' cousin--tell him Carlos had told me the story of how he was tossed out of the family and went to live with his aunt--"

"His Tia Carmen, yes. We will talk more about that, dear. There is much I can tell you of that sad period in Carlito's life. Much you should know in order to understand the complicated family dynamics that still are in play today."

"Good--I want to understand it all! And actually, I'm not mad at _Mateo--_not really. Or I won't be, provided he tells me the truth when we talk on Monday afternoon. I'm planning on offering him a one-shot amnesty. Own up to it now and all is forgiven--or keep lying and we're going to have major problems from now on. I look at it this way: Mateo loves Carlos, Carlos loves Mateo, they trust each other, and Mateo did what Carlos asked him to. So I've got no bone to pick with _him_, provided he doesn't keep lying to me. I want to be reasonable about this--"

"That is more than fair, Stephanie! I am grateful that you are not angry at me."

"Why should I be? You, as you said, never lied to me. You didn't make this deal. You were honest and reached out at a time when I needed you more than anything--and I'll always be grateful to you for that, Rosa. Always."

We had finished our meal by now, and worked together to clean the kitchen before we headed back into the family room to continue the conversation.

"And I'm not angry at Alex," she shrugged, "Not at all! He wasn't in my face lying to me weekly. Or trying to use me to score points against Carlos. He was very friendly, very nice when I met him that night. I'd like to be friends with him, and his wife and family. Because of Carlos. He told me that he and Alex were slowly trying to rebuild their relationship--"

I nodded, "Yes, they have been. My late husband Alejandro and my son did a lot of damage to their brotherly bond by promoting Alex over Carlos non-stop for so many years. Alex is a dear boy, but he has never had the self-confidence that Carlos has. Alex has always given up much of himself in order to be liked. He is not as strong inside as Carlos. Although lately--something has happened. Ricardo and Alex have quarreled. I know not the details. But all is not with them as it was in the past. There is a coolness there from Alex now, and a kind of desperation from Ricardo. This I have been watching carefully. Teresa has noticed it, too. But she has no more of an idea on what has caused it than I have."

"It's probably tied up with that same urge that had Rico--I mean Ricardo--going overboard trying to romance Teresa like it was going out of style. We've been having conversations while we were cooking Monday nights, talking about Carlos and the wedding, and how we met, and that kind of thing. I mentioned once or twice that Carlos' father hurt him deeply by his actions, and made it very clear that I thought his father was the loser for not appreciating the man his son really is. Maybe Ricardo has been re-examining the past, and it has resulted in him rethinking his relationship with his other son?"

"That is possible, my child. He has indeed been more reflective of late. But if his actions with Alex have been as badly planned as those with Teresa, I fear he has made another mess of things that will blow up in his face very soon. And that of the family, as well."

"I hear you! I need to call Alex back anyway--and you know what? I'm going to drop in to _Rosa's _sometime this week when Papa--damn, I mean Ricardo--is not there, and see if I can talk to Alex for a bit. I want to tell him that I have discovered the truth, and see what he has to say about it. Maybe I can work at building a relationship that will make his bond with Carlos stronger, when he returns."

"This is a good thing you do for Carlito, Stephanie. Will you tell Teresa?"

"No, I think I need to do what Carlos wanted: don't you think? Keep his mother and his sisters out of it? What do you think? You know them best--will they want to know about me?"

I laughed long and heartily. "They will _definitely_ want to know all about you, child. _All about you _being the operative words! They will be all over you, if they knew any of this. We would have Celia haunting you day and night, interrogating you non-stop on your private business, nosy girl that she is. And bossy Pilar would be interjecting her opinion on everything, and you would have a headache like you would not believe trying to make your wedding plans! Teresa would want to ask 1001 questions, and meet your family, and you would be expected for dinner every week."

"Holy Moly Macarolli!" Steph groaned miserably.

"This is why Carlito made the decision he did, to keep you apart from the women in his family. He wanted you to have peace of mind and not to be smothered by all of his female relatives." I grinned cheekily, "_Myself_ not included, of course."

Stephanie smirked, "He'd _freak_ if he knew you were here, wouldn't he?"

"He would be frightened half to death," I acknowledged happily, "That is why he thought to switch to English when he made his plans in the library. He guessed I might be eavesdropping, but thought he was safe speaking in another language."

"He doesn't know you speak English, then?" she asked, interestedly.

"Not for certain. He has tested me from time to time, you understand," I winked saucily, "But each time I have--how you say?--outfoxed the fox! Yes, I keep my eyes blank and pretend I do not catch what he is saying. He looks carefully at me, but then he decides that I understand only Spanish. Poor Carlito! He must get up very early in order to put one over on his Abuela Rosa, that boy!"

"So Tank speaks Spanish, I guess? If he called you to give you the news about Carlos, then it must mean that he does--"

"Oh, Pierre? Yes, he speaks Spanish quite well. And Lester Santos, of course--did you know that your jewelry comes from his father's jewelry store? I see the name _Santos_ on the boxes you have shown me with your lovely jewelry."

"That's _Lester's _father's store?"

"Indeed it is. Perhaps you might pay a visit there one day?" I teased, watching her expressive eyes and seeing a plan forming as I spoke. "Perhaps you and your friend Tina might wish to shop there?"

Stephanie grinned, "You're _good_, Rosa. Damn, you're good!"

"I am _wicked_," I corrected her archly, "And it is fun to be so, after being so proper for far too long. My son, he is about to find out _how_ wicked, once the magazine with my ad in it hits the newsstands next week, yes?"

"Definitely yes," she giggled, "Your and Teresa's ads both will be in the new issues. Your son will not be happy then, huh?"

"He will have a fit," I chortled, "And I will enjoy watching every minute of it, as will Teresa. I will have a party, I think! Teresa and I will send out invitations to the entire family for a dinner! It will be our big mystery as to why! We will make a reservation at _Rosa's _and let my son wonder what the big announcement we will make will be!"

"Omigod, that's _brilliant_! Evil as all hell, but brilliant!"

"_Do not fuck with Rosa Manoso_," I intoned seriously, my eyes twinkling, "This lesson will I teach my arrogant son once and for all! Yes, it is settled! I will enlist Teresa in my plan, and she and I will enjoy every second of this."

"I can get you the advertising posters, if you want," Stephanie offered, getting into the spirit of things. "You can put them on easels, and hide them under cloths. Then when you stand up to make your big announcement, champagne in hand, you can sweep the cloths off---"

"And there as large as life will be the two Manoso women in their moment of triumph!" I clapped my hands in delight, "Oh yes, _please_, child! I do so want these posters! And you will please to attend the party?"

"Oh, my God! You want _me _there?" She seemed stunned.

"Yes, of course I want you there! It is because of you that Teresa and I have had this opportunity! You and Dawson."

"Are you inviting Dawson too?"

"I thought to, yes."

"How are you going to explain our presence? Won't it ruin your big surprise? Everyone will want to know who we are and why we are crashing a family party."

"Except for Ricardo, Alex and Mateo," I reminded her, "They will all be tight in their stomachs, fearing you are about to spoil their big secret. It will be amusing to watch them, I think."

"You _are_ wicked! But I'm confused! I thought you agreed with me that it was best for me to keep the secret of who I am from Teresa and the other women in your family?"

"I do. It is not my intention that you reveal that you are Carlito's woman! No, _that_ is not my scheme at all, child! I will tell you the date and time of the party, and I would like for you and Dawson to be there in the restaurant watching the events at our table until Teresa and I make our big announcement that we are magazine models for your lingerie company! You can get a chance to see Carlos' family in one place at one time--see the family dynamics, as it were! I will pick a night when Alex is in charge--he is far easier to deal with than Ricardo in the kitchen--and I will plan every last detail so that the men can not see you and Dawson sitting there until the big moment arrives!"

"Then what?"

I could tell Stephanie was taken with the idea!

"Teresa and I make our announcement, whip off the cloths and display our beautiful photos to all our stunned family. And then I make another champagne toast to the people who made it all possible. Then I wave to you and Dawson, and you both join us for a celebratory dinner! It is magnificent theater, yes?"

"WOW! It's certainly a show-stopping moment, for sure!"

"It is a declaration of my independence, long overdue! And there is _another_ big announcement that I will make that night." I grinned like a child at Christmas. "What will my family say, I wonder? _Rosa Manoso has a gentleman friend!_"

"You're going to tell them you're dating Dawson?"

I giggled, "You of course knew of this."

"Of course I did! He's looking happier than I've ever seen him, Rosa. You and Dawson--you are very serious about each other?"

"Yes," I confessed, feeling myself blush, "He is the man I love. And he says too that he loves me. It is time for him to meet my family, and for them to meet him. For the first time in my life, I have fallen--as they say--head over heels in love! I never thought to have this for myself, child. Never. As I told you in my letters, my marriage to Alejandro was an arranged marriage, and he was not an easy man to be with. I was a dutiful wife, and yes, I suppose there was love of a certain sort. But no magic, you understand. No romance. No passion. All of this I have now with Dawson! I am coming alive again, and for this too, I have you to thank."

"I didn't do anything!"

"If it were not for you, I would never have gone to your workplace to spy on Carlos' woman. I would never have dressed up in my most stylish of frocks, to fit in there among the fashionable people. And I would never have stepped off the elevator and come face-to-face with the most handsome man of my dreams! I would never have had the nerve to have my picture taken and become a model, and have the excuse to return to pick up my photo--and to accept a lunch invitation! That invitation started _everything_! So you see--it _is _you who are ultimately responsible, Stephanie! And now we two are good friends, yes?"

"Yes, _definitely_ yes. What do you think your family will think about you and Dawson? Will they be happy for you, Rosa?" she worried.

I tossed back my head imperiously, "I do not care what anyone thinks! I am in charge of my own life! Finally! Oh, for certain Ricardo will be _furious_. I have told you: he sees me as a frail old woman to be locked away from life. This he can not do. Not anymore! Dawson and I have talked of marriage. _There! _I tell you alone this news!"

"Omigod! You two are planning to get _married_?"

I nodded, the smile splitting my face. "Yes. It is true! We speak daily many times--just to hear the sound of each other's voice, sometimes. We have been seeing each other several times weekly, ever since we first met. Poor Pedro has been quite busy driving me to and fro for our dates. Now it is time for Dawson to be able to see me to my door nightly! I have seen his lovely home, and we have spoken of redecorating it--that he is now having done, in preparation for the day when we will share the house as man and wife."

"I am so happy for both of you!"

"I too am happy, child! More than I have ever been, or ever thought to be. And now that you know the truth about who I am, things will be easier for me and Dawson."

"I don't understand? What does that have to do with anything?"

"Ah! As to that! It has much to do with you, Stephanie! I have not wanted to put Dawson in the position of knowing something he can not tell you. It would not be fair to _either_ of you--especially since you are friends and partners, and must have absolute trust between you. So I have not shared everything I should with Dawson. I have told him that there is a big secret that I must keep for the time being--and have asked that he give me his trust that it does not change how we feel for each other."

"And he's okay with doing that?"

"He is very curious, of course. Who would not be? I can see he wishes to know all of the truth, but I tell him that I can not share the secret with him until the special person involved--"

"Me?"

"You. Until that special person learns the truth. He knows me as Rosa Garciaparra, not as Rosa Manoso. Because, of course, your beloved's name is Carlos Manoso, and Dawson knows this. We speak only Spanish to each other, because of that day when we met, and we were playing the charade that I did not speak English. And Dawson knows that I have been hesitant to introduce him to my family, and to have him pick me up at home. Because my son would not be happy to find his mother has a gentleman friend. But for all of this, Dawson has been very patient. He has told me that he will respect my need for secrecy until this person has learned the truth. He has given me his trust, and his love. And now--tonight--I can have Pedro drive me over to Dawson's when I leave you, and I can share with him all of the story! _Finally! _I can be completely honest with the man I love, and he will understand why I have done what I did. Because I know he would never have wanted me to put him in a position where he had to keep the truth from you."

"Now I understand why you were putting in hint after hint in the letters you wrote," she laughed, "God! You must have wanted to shake me, to wake me up to the truth!"

"I knew the time would come when you would tumble to the truth. I had faith that it would turn out well. Although I confess when I heard the terrible news of the plane crash, I lost my hope. I feared that God was going to punish me for my dishonesty---"

"But instead, He rewarded you! You came to church to light candles and pray to Him, and He brought me there for the same reason. And we were able to be there for each other when we needed support and encouragement."

"It is true. God is indeed wise and merciful. He has given me a true friend, and Carlito a woman who will be strong and loving for all his life. And He has given me Dawson."

The phone rang, interrupting our heart-felt conversation. Stephanie picked it up, then the expression on her face changed. She rolled her eyes, and indicated that she was going to put the conversation on speaker-phone. I knew exactly who it was, and nodded.

Minutes later my son's deep voice filled the air.

"My dear Estefania! It is Papa! I called earlier. Did you not get my message?" He sounded irritated. I'm certain he expected the girl would return his call immediately!

"Hello--_Rico_." Stephanie made a sour face, and I clapped my hand to my mouth to smother the laughter. "Yes, I did get your message. I'm sorry, I was out for most of the day."

"It is of no matter. I call to bring you the happiest of news! You are not to worry your pretty little head about your Carlos--especially after the tragic news earlier today!"

Stephanie got a mischievous look on her face, then asked innocently, "What tragic news, Rico? I don't understand! Has something happened?"

My son's voice sounded hesitant. "The plane crash, Estefania. The news has covered it unceasingly today. But of course, you have been out, so you did not hear of it."

"The Delta Force plane crash? Yes, I've heard of that, certainly. But what is _that_ to do with _Carlos_?" She was an amazing actress, sounding quite puzzled. "Are you telling me _he _was on the plane?" Her voice trembled in just the right spot, and my son hurried in to reassure her.

"No, no, no, certainly not! _Dios! _That is not my news at all! I merely wanted to assure you that he was most definitely _not_ on that plane."

"How can you know that?"

"I am a very important man, Estefania," he said, grandly. "I have many friends among the important people. Many connections with the movers and the shakers. I know many things that lesser men do not."

Stephanie put her fingers down her throat and feigned being sick. I bit my lip to control my hilarity: Ricardo was so pompous it was beyond embarrassing. But of course he had no humility whatsoever! _My son, the ass!_

"You've gotten some word from one of your important friends about Carlos?" Damn, that little quiver in her voice was really convincing! "Oh, _please_, tell me, Rico! I am so desperate to hear he is well!"

"Indeed he is, Estefania," Rico's voice gentled, "I have been assured by one of my most reliable connections that Carlos is safe and well, and that he sends his love, to you--and of course, to _all _of us."

Trust Rico to ham it up and have to include _himself_ in Carlos' good wishes! The absolute nerve of him still astounded me, even after all these years! I gave Stephanie the middle finger as my personal message to my son, and she nodded in amused agreement.

"Oh, thank God, Rico! I am so grateful that you called with this news! How on earth did you manage to get in touch with someone who knows him?"

"As to that--I can not reveal my sources, dear Estefania. _Alas! _But as I have told you, I know many important people. They are all devoted customers of mine and would do anything I ask of them. I thought to ease your mind with news of your beloved, and am humbly pleased that I could offer my services to put you at ease."

Now _I_ wanted to vomit. I threw up my hands in disgust, and promised myself that I would puncture his hot air at my promised party. Just the thought of how my oh-so-proper son would react when he saw his wife and his mother in magazines as lingerie models--albeit not modeling the lingerie itself--made my heart sing. Then there was Dawson! Oh, yes, Ricardo would pay for his pomposity, a hundred-fold!

By the time I'd finished my musings, Stephanie had completed her phone call and was looking at me in delight.

"He is soooooooo going down, Rosa!"

"I was thinking the same thing, child."

"I asked him to come over here Monday night. He thinks we're having another cooking lesson. But I'm going to blow the whistle on all this. Not _you_, of course. I'm not telling him you and I even know each other. But I'm telling him I know he's Carlos' father and that he's been playing me all along. And I'm going to let him know that I'm furious about it--and about the way he's treated his son."

"You must tell me all about it on Tuesday night when we have our first cooking lesson, child. Say 6pm?"

"Perfect."

"I'll have Pedro drive me to the market, and then I'll have him drop me here. He can pick me up at 10pm, that should give us plenty of time."

"You know, now that you are going to tell Dawson that you're Carlos' abuela, you can bring him over for dinner some nights!"

"Yes, and you can dine with us at Dawson's house, as well! I will have such a busy social life, my son and all of his many important friends will be so jealous!" I teased.

"Did you catch how he tripped himself up on that call? Carlos would _never_ have told him that he was in Delta Force if he were just a long-time family friend. So the news of a Delta Force plane crash would have meant _nothing _to Ricardo, and there would have been no reason for him to get in touch with me to ease my mind today."

"Oh, this is true. I had not thought of it."

"And the same with Alex. He called too, just the same as Ricardo. And I need to call him back--but again, there'd be no reason for Carlos to tell a family friend such secret information. Information he made crystal clear he didn't share with _anyone_. So Alex gave himself away too. Maybe he'd have told Mateo, since he was his attorney as well as his best friend, but no way would Ricardo and Alex know. Unless they were Carlos' father and brother."

"You will tell them this?"

"Damn straight."

"You will have much to tell me on Tuesday night, dear child!"

"And you will have much to share too--Dawson's reaction to the news, and more of your party plans. I assume you want to plan the party for the first week of December?"

"Next week, yes. If you could check to be certain the date that the magazines will hit the newsstands? Then I will book the table at _Rosa's_--and the fun will begin, yes?"

We giggled like naughty schoolgirls. We were both planning to be _very_ wicked!


	82. Chapter 82

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. _

Chapter 82

_Carlos' POV:_

She came to me in dreams that night, as she had during each one of the 55 nights we had already been apart. As I knew she would for each one of the remaining 494 nights, until I could once again hold my Babe in my arms and tell her that she is my world, my life, all that I need and all I will ever desire.

As I settled happily into the dream, letting go and giving myself over to its power, I realized--with that unique perspective that comes sometimes when we dream--that this was more than just the lustful conjurings of a lonely man. This was a _memory_. We'd played this fantasy out in the wee early hours of that unforgettable Saturday morning in October, when only 2 fantasies were left to be drawn from the ice bucket. Both were Stephanie's; and, like my Babe, they didn't disappoint.

She was wearing the sinful red dress that had started everything. The one she'd worn when I'd first seen her in the bar, and fallen instantly under her spell. The one that fit her like a second skin, hugging her womanly curves tightly and promising untold delights to the man who would coax her out of it.

Her long curly brown hair flowed like waves over her shoulders. Tousled. Wild, like her adventurous spirit. Bed-head, they call it. Well-named, since we'd done nothing for hours and hours except roll around in bed and slake our feverish passions with each other's body. Except that we _hadn't_ slaked our passions at all: we'd merely whet our appetites for more of what we alone could give the other. We were mutually addicted, and we knew it. And damn, were we wickedly inventive!

Stephanie nibbled her full all-too-kissable bottom lip and gave me a long lingering appraisal as she undulated slowly over to meet me. Those red stilettos did things to her walk that should be illegal, as The Wizard of Ahhs had happily learned many hours before. Damn, she looked so hot it was all I could do not to pull her into my arms, strip her, and drag her back to bed, the fantasy be damned! _Steady, Soldier!_

I bit back the wolf grin that threatened suddenly, sternly forcing myself to stay in character. I sat shuffling papers at the desk, pretending to look officious, all the while allowing my eyes to drink in every inch of her beauty and revel in the knowledge that this stunning, mesmerizing, exciting woman belonged to me. _God, I was one lucky bastard! _

"Doctor Manoso?" She tossed some unruly locks of her chestnut-colored mane over her shoulder, and held out her hand to me in greeting.

Her smile was a shy one, but it was belied by the mischievous sparkle in her blue eyes and the rosy flush of excitement on her cheeks. Stephanie has a very expressive face, and I knew she was enjoying every second of this. I'd make it my business to see that she enjoyed it even _more _once things really got started!

I stood, and leaned over to take her hand into mine. The electrical sparks between us were still there, shooting off in force; and our faces both reflected the knowledge. I'd never get tired of touching this woman. Never. "Miss Plum. Please be seated. I have your file here. Yours is a very--interesting--case. Quite challenging."

"You _can_ help me, though, Doctor? I don't know _what_ I'll do if I have to learn to live with this! I don't think I can! The ache is---well, it's just simply _unbearable_." She had the little quiver in her voice down perfectly. As she seated herself, she crossed her long tanned legs, giving me a tantalizing view of one of her best features. She blinked her baby blues at me appealingly.

I sat casually on the edge of the desk, just inches away from her, and let my very appreciative eyes caress her lingeringly, in total silence. Then, unsmiling, I pretended to consult my file notes, and shook my head sadly.

The silence was too much for my Babe--as I knew it would be.

"Doctor Manoso? Aren't you going to say _anything_?"

"Strip."

"_Excuse me_?" she said, indignantly, blinking in disbelief.

Whatever she'd expected me to do or say, it hadn't been _this_!

I folded my arms leisurely across my chest, and gave her my best inscrutable look. "I said, _strip_. I have to examine you, Miss Plum. I'm a _doctor_, remember?"

"Well-yeah--but--but--" she sputtered, helplessly. "Don't I get to change into one of those paper gown things first?"

"Why bother with that? It would be a waste of both our time: I'd only have to rip it right off of you," I drawled huskily. "So let's just save the paper, shall we? We'll be environmentally responsible adults."

She flushed with excitement, and swallowed audibly before managing a squeaky. "This is very unprofessional of you, Doctor Manoso."

I shrugged unapologetically. "I'm the absolute best at what I do, Miss Plum. That's no exaggeration. I have women lining up for _miles, _begging for the kind of expertise only _I_ can offer them. Ergo, my time is extremely valuable. I don't have time to moly-coddle my patients. You want me to treat you, you have to follow my orders. To the letter. I told you: _strip_. Do it. Now."

"This was supposed to be _my_ fantasy, Superman," she muttered darkly, getting to her feet reluctantly.

It surely was, at that. _Was_ being the operative word. Plans had changed, however: _I_ was high-jacking this fantasy, and I was making it entirely _mine_. That's what we bad-asses do--I never claimed to be a Boy Scout, after all.

"You didn't specify what the doctor's _personality_ was supposed to be, Babe," I smirked, enjoying my victory. "Gotta learn to tie up all the loopholes in any negotiated deal. You left me plenty of wiggle-room there. And I plan to use it. _All _of it. Let that be a lesson for you, in the future."

"Bastard." She gave me her best Burg Girl Death Glare.

I deflected it easily. "Do you want to get rid of that _I-can't-live-with-it-anymore_ ache of yours or not, Miss Plum? If not, I have _dozens_ of other more cooperative patients waiting eagerly for me--"

"Oh, all right! _You win!_" She rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"I always do, Babe." That earned her a big wolf grin.

"You're so _arrogant_. You're just damned lucky you're really _hot_, Superman--or else I'd be out of here so damned fast you wouldn't see me for dust."

"Speaking of _seeing you_----" I waved carelessly at her, "I told you: lose the dress, Babe. You can keep the red-hot shoes on, though."

"Pervert," she huffed.

"Takes one to know one," I returned, amused.

"I need help taking my dress off," she pouted.

"What's the magic word?" I teased.

"_Please_."

"Good girl. Now turn around for Doctor Carlos," I ordered, gliding up behind her as she completed her turn. I took a moment to enjoy the view: Stephanie has the tightest, hottest ass I've ever seen, and the red dress displayed it to perfection. Oh, yeah: I was one lucky bastard, all right!

She lifted her riotous curls up with both hands, turning her head over her shoulder to check out my intentions, just the hint of a flirty smile in place. I slowly undid the fastening of her halter top, and pushed the two pieces of red fabric out of my way, enjoying the revelation of many more inches of delectably creamy skin. From my vantage point I could look down and see that the dress just barely covered her breasts now. And she wasn't wearing a bra.

"Very nice," I murmured in husky approval. "I'm definitely going to enjoy giving you a very _thorough_ examination, Miss Plum."

"Really?" Stephanie purred. "Well--I hope you've got a good bedside manner, Doctor."

"Oh, that I do: I guarantee you're going to be _very _pleased. In fact, I give you my professional assurance that I'm going to devote myself to relieving this terrible ache of yours. No matter how hard a job it is. Or how long it takes. I'm _very _dedicated to my work."

I let my fingers lingeringly stroke a line from the back of her neck down her back to the zipper pull. She shivered in delight, and I heard a small moan of pleasure escape her throat.

"You didn't even ask me where my ache was," she reminded me. "What kind of a doctor _are _you, anyway?"

I laughed huskily as Stephanie reached back to slide her zipper down, freeing up her soft silken skin to my view as the back panels of the dress opened. "I know _exactly _where your ache is, Babe. And I'm the kind of a specialist who knows just how to make it go away. Besides---"

She pushed the red dress down over her curvy body, sliding it over her hips and thighs and calves, until it pooled at her ankles. She was completely naked underneath: not only because I'd asked her to be, but also because she'd run out of lingerie for us to play with. I was going to have to replenish her supply when we spent our Sunday together. Yes, I'd happily select dozens of lace and silk confections for my beautiful Babe. Then I could spend all of Sunday night tearing them off her….

"Besides _what_?" Steph asked, curiously, as she leaned against me, allowing my hungry hands to caress her responsive flesh oh-so-slowly as I dusted her shoulders with feather-soft kisses.

"Besides, no matter _where_ you said your ache was, I'd have wanted you naked for an examination."

"The AMA frowns on that kind of thing, Doctor."

"This doctor makes his _own _rules, Babe."

"Hallelujah for that! Oh, God! That feels so good," she whispered, as my hands cupped her full breasts and my thumbs teased her rosy nipples into hard pebbles.

"It's going to feel even better in a few minutes," I promised, nipping her earlobe with my teeth. "Show me where the ache is, Babe." I allowed my hands to slide down her body, stroking her tummy and then gliding over to cup her hips. I pulled her closer to me, and that soft whimper I heard told me exactly when she'd felt my erection pressing against her beautifully-curved ass.

"Your Beast is ready, huh?" she breathed, her excitement palpable.

"For you? _Always_," I assured her, grinding into her, enjoying her low moan of appreciation. "Just thinking of you gets me rock-hard, Babe. Seeing you. Touching you. Putting my hands here…" I let my hands slowly travel down her body, moving them over her thighs, stroking up and down. "Open your legs, Miss Plum."

"Omigod!" She complied eagerly, and gave a loud cry as my hand slipped between her legs, cupping her mound and stroking her expertly as she shivered in delight and gave herself over to my ministrations.

I dropped hot kisses down her neck and shoulders, pulling her against my hard body with one hand, as my other hand continued to stroke her now-wet folds. My thumb made lazy circles on her clit, and I sent two long fingers deep inside her, curving them to reach her g-spot. My fingers worked their magic as Stephanie leaned back against me and began to whimper in sheer delight.

"Feeling that ache now, Miss Plum?" I teased, nipping at her earlobe.

"Omigod, _yes_." She swayed, as if her legs were made of rubber.

"On a scale of 1-10, 10 being the highest, how bad is the ache right about _now_?"

"It's a 20. I need--I need--" Her voice was breathless.

There was no doubt at all in my mind what she needed--and she needed it _badly_. But she wasn't going to _get_ it--yet. I had plans for Stephanie Plum. Very enjoyable plans. I tipped my lips in a mocking smile, and pulled my hand away abruptly.

"What are you _doing_?" she yelped, as I stepped back and considered her carefully. She was flushed, she was ready for hot, sweaty sex--and she was now seriously pissed. _God, I loved this woman!_

"I'm gathering facts. That's what I do. I'm a doctor, remember?"

"You're supposed to take care of that ache between my legs," she whined, "A couple of more strokes would have done it."

I smirked, "I know. That's why I stopped when I did. Just in time, I suspect."

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

"Do too. You're seriously _twisted_, Superman."

"I needed to get you aching in order to start treating you," I defended myself. "How else can I be sure my treatment will be effective?"

"You get naked, go lie down on the bed, and I'll climb on and cure _myself_," she glared. "This is _my_ fantasy, and you're ruining it."

"My, my, are you nasty when you're horny," I observed. "And since _I'm _the doctor, I'm not taking orders. Or getting naked or horizontal."

"Ever?"

"Not anytime soon."

"That sucks."

"I can, however, unbutton my lab coat, if that will make you any happier," I offered.

I was wearing a white shirt over my jeans, it being the closest I could come to a costume for Steph's Doctor fantasy. I slowly--very very slowly--started to unbutton my "lab coat" and my Babe's eyes sparkled.

"Take it off."

"Nope, that's totally against my medical ethics."

"Screw your medical ethics. Hell--screw _me_!"

"No can do, Babe. That would be very unprofessional of me. I still have to examine you first," I reminded her, as I finished unbuttoning my shirt and pushed it open so that she had a clear view of my rock-hard chest. I bit back a smile as she moaned softly, her lips open, and a tiny bit of drool escaped the corner of her mouth.

"You're not going to get naked for me?" she sighed, unhappily. "This is so not turning out as I planned it."

"You _didn't_ plan it, that's your problem. You need to dot your i's and cross your t's when you negotiate something, Babe. Or else you have to take what you get and stop whining about it."

"I'd stop whining if I had more skin to look at."

"You would, would you?"

"Absolutely. I'd be very cooperative. I promise."

"You'll be cooperative anyway, once I get you on the bed and start examining you."

"Are you going to do obscene things to me?" she asked hopefully, throwing herself onto the bed and striking a provocative pose. "I'm more than ready for you to do tons and tons of obscene things to me."

I laughed softly, "I can see you are. I guess technically you can consider what I'm planning to do as obscene…if that makes you happy."

"You fucking the hell out of me would make me very happy."

"I know it would."

"It would make _you_ happy too."

"No argument there, Babe."

"Take your shirt off, Carlos. Pretty please? With sugar on top?"

"It's very irregular, Miss Plum. I could lose my medical license for that."

"Who's gonna report you? Not _moi_, for sure."

"Well…maybe I can accommodate you. Hands off, though," I warned her. "No interfering with my medical exam or else my shirt goes right back on."

"I can't touch you?" She was beyond disappointed, and not trying to hide it.

"Nope. No hands. In fact---" I moved to the bed and considered the matter carefully. "I'm going to position you, and you're going stay there. Or else the shirt stays on. Deal?"

"Jeans off too?" she asked hopefully.

I smirked. "Dream on, Babe."

"You could--you know--do a little peel and strip for me. Let me see the equipment you've got to work with. So I can tell if it will work on my problem or not."

"You've seen the equipment already, Babe. In action. You know damned well it works."

"True--but I wouldn't mind seeing it again though. Like, say, right _now_?"

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say."

"You're a very tough negotiator, Superman."

"So I've been told, Babe. So what's the deal? You want the shirt off or not?"

"Off, of course."

"Of course." I peeled off my shirt, and tossed it carelessly on the floor. It was all I could do not to climb onto the bed and pull Steph into my arms: she was naked, she was hot and ready, and I was feeling so damned horny I could be inside her in 1.2 nanoseconds and in Heaven in 1.3. But, damn, I had a fantasy to fulfill--and I was determined to see it through!

The lascivious look my Babe gave me didn't help. Her lustful eyes were slowly traveling over my abdominal muscles, and I had no doubt she was majorly impressed by what she saw.

"God, you're really _ripped_," she moaned. "You must live in the gym."

"The better to handle uncooperative patients," I teased, "Now it's your turn to comply with our little deal."

"I'm in your hands, Doctor."

"That you are." I enjoyed every moment of arranging her nude body spreadeagle on the bed, handing her fistfuls of sheet and ordering her to clutch them--not me--when she felt the pressing need to do so. I spread out her curly hair on the pillow, and let my hands stroke her cheek gently before I pushed a pillow under her hips and gave a long satisfied sigh. This doctor was ready to go to work!

"Now what?" she asked, breathlessly. "You have me at your mercy."

"I have no mercy," I teased, "By the time I'm finished with you, you're going to be _screaming_, Babe. Literally."

"Omigod! What are you going to do?"

"Get rid of that ache of yours, just like you asked me to. But first, I need to decide the best way to handle the problem."

"What's the big mystery? Get a condom on, and put your cock in my pussy."

"Been to medical school, have you, Miss Plum?"

"I know how to cure myself--I just don't happen to have the proper equipment to do it."

"Hydrotherapy not working for you?"

"This hotel doesn't have a shower massager."

"Too bad. No electrical therapy either, huh?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Your super-powerful rocket-scientist vibrator. From your sex-offender granny."

"It's home in my dresser drawer. _Unfortunately_."

"Unfortunately."

"Actually, I was hoping for more _powerful_ equipment. Which we both know _you _have. But apparently you have some aversion to _using_ it."

"I like to consider all alternatives before whipping out the big gun, so to speak."

"Forget the alternatives. _Whip it out_, will you please??"

"Not just yet. Don't be so impatient! First I need to do a hands-on assessment." I sat down on the bed, and let my hands leisurely move over her now-quivering body. "I've been told I have magic hands. Now, let's see, where oh where shall we start?"

Steph moaned softly as my hands cupped her breasts. I began to knead them skillfully, coaxing her nipples to stiff peaks as I lost myself in the pleasure of handling her gorgeous breasts. I licked my lips, temptation striking as I moved my hands over her luscious mounds.

"Maybe a touch of oral therapy is called for right about now," I decided, leaning down to take each one of her tempting globes into my mouth in turn. I devoted myself to licking and sucking her breasts, nibbling ever so gently on her nipples and then lathing them with my tongue as Steph whimpered helplessly beneath me.

"That feels so good!" she moaned, gripping the sheets like a lifeline.

"It's going to feel even _better_," I guaranteed, putting my hands back to work as I pinched her now diamond-hard nipples and watched her beautiful blue eyes glaze over in lust-filled delight. "We're just getting started, Babe." I moved my hands over her responsive body in ever-widening circles, enjoying how her silken smooth skin quivered under my touch. Her breathing changed, and I felt her tummy ripple as I sent my hands gliding over it in search of still more forbidden pastures.

Minutes later I was stroking her inner thighs and slowly but surely working my way up to the spot where we both wanted me to be. She was digging her heels into the bed and arching her back to offer me her sweet pussy. It would have been unforgivable of me to ignore the invitation.

My fingers--three of them--found her wet and hungry, and slid in to her womanly folds easily, as she gave a loud cry of pleasure and began to rock herself against them. My cock was hard and straining against the denim of my jeans, and it took every ounce of concentration I could muster to keep focused on the task at hand. Literally at hand. I pumped my fingers in and out of her, my thumb working her clit mercilessly as she threw back her head and cried out, again and again.

I knew her body well by this point, and I knew she was perilously close to orgasm. An orgasm I wasn't going to allow her…just yet. Again, I pulled back and left her unsatisfied.

"_Carrrrlos_!" She groaned, "Don't stop! Don't stop! Please don't stop!"

I leaned over and gave her a long deep kiss, my tongue slipping into her mouth and doing some damage before I reluctantly ended things.

"Why are you _doing _this?" she wailed, "You're _killing_ me!"

"It's called heightening the anticipation, Babe. Trust me, when you do finally come, I'm going to have to peel you off the ceiling."

"I need it _now_!"

I sucked her juices from my fingers, smacking my lips in pleasure, and then gave her a wicked smile. "But you're not going to _get _it now, so you're just going to have to deal with it, aren't you?"

She was still panting, trying to come down from the high of her almost-orgasm, and her eyes shot fire at me. My Babe was _seriously_ pissed. I moved between her legs and settled in for the next phase of treatment.

Her eyes brightened immediately. "More oral therapy?"

"_Lots _more," I promised, giving her a teasing wink. "Settle back down and enjoy, Miss Plum. This doctor is even better with his mouth than he is with his fingers. Now that I've discovered _exactly_ where that ache of yours is located, I need to spend some quality time trying to treat it with every method at my disposal."

"_Every_ method?"

"Oral. Manual. And, if _they _don't work…."

"The big gun?"

"And it's getting bigger every moment."

"You _are_ very good with your mouth. When you're using it the right way, instead of flapping it at me making stupid rules, that is."

"You don't like my stupid rules, you always can find yourself another doctor, Miss Plum."

"I don't want another doctor. I want _you_! Which you very well know! Will you shut up and start hacering la sopa! _Please_??"

I gave her a big wolf grin, and settled down to enjoy myself: there is nothing--I repeat, _nothing_--as sweet and delicious as Stephanie's honeyed nector. I used my fingers to separate her plump lips, and sent my tongue in to lap ravenously at her pussy juices. Her legs started to tremble, and I pulled back reluctantly.

"Those shoes of yours have got to go, Babe," I ordered, taking a moment to pull the red stilettos off her feet and toss them carelessly across the room. "I'm not getting my eye poked out because you're out of control." I remembered all-too-well her shark dream, and her previous attempt at whoo-jah'ing it! I'd been kicked off the bed trying to give her oral sex, for cryin' out loud! And I sure as hell wasn't setting myself up for another round of _that _dangerous little game.

"Forget the damned shoes, will you?" she snapped, desperate for release. "Just keep doing what you're doing. And don't you _dare_ stop this time or I'll toss you on your back and fuck you senseless! That's not a threat, that's a _promise_, Superman!"

Holy shit! That sounded pretty damned good! Stephanie riding me like Zorro was a very pleasant memory, all right. I was more than tempted to test her resolve. What was a doctor to do?

My rock-hard cock fought the denim of the jeans again, and I came perilously close to letting him have his freedom. But no--I was determined to take this step by step. And Steph tasted so utterly delicious, I couldn't bear to stop now! Instead, I sent my tongue back to work, and then began using my lips to suck first her pussy lips, then her clit.

The lady was quite appreciative. Steph's cries were so loud that I was pretty sure someone was calling the front desk right about now. Not that I much _cared_, mind you. I was having the time of my life keeping my Babe from bucking off the bed, as she lost herself in transports of pleasure. I had my arms wrapped around her thighs, and she was grinding her pussy into my welcoming mouth.

She was coming over and over, and now I was ready to take her even higher.

I rolled off the bed, quickly shucking my jeans and winning an ear-to-ear grin from Steph as my massive cock sprung to attention, ready for action like the good soldier that it was. I grabbed a condom, and sheathed myself before I climbed on top of Steph and plunged into her, burying myself to the hilt in her wet heat.

My mouth fused to hers in a searing kiss, and our tongues dueled for supremacy. It was a toss-up which one of us was hotter or hungrier. She let go of the sheets and wrapped her hands around my ass cheeks, pulling me deeper and deeper inside her. My cock was harder than it had ever been in its life, and I pistoned into Steph with a fury, sending both of us into a rip-roaring climax that lasted forever.

Shooting awake, I caught the scream of release that hovered on my lips.

_What the fuck?_

I was alone. In my small bedroom in a CIA-sponsored house in Takrit, Iraq. I looked around, blinking and incredulous. The dream had been so damned _real_! I was covered in sweat, aroused, and all-too-close to embarrassing myself, as my cock stood stiffly at attention and ready to erupt any second.

Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn!

I struggled mightily to master my body, but fragments of the dream--the_ memory_--came flashing back in my head. The vision of Stephanie's naked body, fused to mine. Her legs wrapped around me, her tight hot pussy sending my cock into the kind of ecstasy that a man never forgets. Her unforgettable taste that no other woman could match. The scent of her skin, her arousal. The moans, the cries, the wails of delight she'd given as I'd taken her, pounding into her welcoming body harder and faster and deeper with each stroke. The silken feel of her, inside and out.

I swore under my breath.

Then I did the only thing I could, given the circumstances: I sent both hands down South to handle the problem. Literally.

Sighing deeply, I closed my eyes and went back to join my Babe.

***

"You going to call our friends now, Hassaan?" Bobby Brown asked me, checking his watch.

"Yeah, it's time, Jamaal," I agreed, moving from the living room into the narrow dark hallway, with Brown at my back.

"It's safe. Both the front and the rear doors are locked: I double-checked minutes ago," he assured me quietly, as I turned to question him. What I was about to do wasn't anything we could risk being seen doing.

Nodding, I moved aside the framed photo of Osama Bin Laden hanging on the wall, finding the hidden latch that opened a carefully disguised panel of the hallway to reveal a secret room--a panic room--that had been built into it by the CIA when the house was newly constructed last year. How the living hell the Spooks managed these things, I had no idea. But manage it they did.

Brown and I shared this house with our informant, Badr Udeen, while the remaining three of our Delta Force team bunked with Udeen's cousin Nabhan in a similarly-designed CIA house located just 10 minutes away. Both Badr and Nabhan were committed to the success of _Operation Eagle's Talon_, and had helped the US government in the past. Without them, we'd have had no hope in hell of getting the captured cryptographers Justin Hawkins and Robert Bell out of Iraq alive.

The secret room was relatively small, but cleverly designed to serve its purpose. It would fit 3 men standing upright in an emergency, but a concealed trap-door in the floor provided access to an even larger cellar that would sleep 6 in relative comfort. Supplies were kept on hand, so that we could hide Hawkins and Bell there long enough to effect their escape from Iraq--once we found out where they were being held, and managed to get our hands on them, that is.

The room off the hallway acted, in essence, as a giant safe: housing our weapons, our real passports, and our secure lines of communication to Delta Force and our top-secret CIA contact. We had laptops and cell phones under our fake identities, but they had been designed to be breached. When they were, they would reinforce the cover stories we had been given to infiltrate Al Qaeda. What we kept in this secret room was the real deal: the laptop and SAT phone that was our life line, now that we were among the enemy.

I stepped inside and shut the door behind me, leaving Brown--now known as Jamaal Faarooq--outside in the hallway keeping guard while I made our daily report to Washington DC. I pulled out the wooden chair and sat down at the small table, opening my highly-encrypted laptop as my eyes moved around the room, missing nothing. What was said in this room was protected from the enemy using every safeguard the US government could offer. If the security of this room were ever breached, we would all die.

Using the highly sensitive optical scan and the fingerprint reader to gain access, I entered the ever-changing series of codes that would connect me with my contacts in DC.

In minutes, I was on web-cam, in a live meeting with General Jack Rousche, Tank James, Lester Santos and two other men I was introduced to for the first time.

Rousche spoke first, introducing me to the two new-comers, Col. Gabriel Striker and CIA Deputy Director David Fitzgerald. Mindful of the fact that we had a mole, he assured me that both men were highly trusted and had been cleared to participate in _Operation Eagle's Talon _only after rigorous investigation.

Since we had every reason to believe the mole was in fact operating from deep within the CIA itself, Fitzgerald stepped up to guarantee that he'd personally seen to it that both CIA houses in use no longer appeared in the CIA's database of safe-houses. Nor were Badr Udeen or his cousin Nabhan's names listed in any records as either CIA informants or operatives.

"And the plane crash, sir?" I asked, "It went as planned?"

"Exactly as anticipated," Rousche responded, "It was staged brilliantly. We had a fireball that could be seen for miles. The press ate it up--the story ran on TV all day long, no one could have missed it. No lives lost in the staging of it, thankfully. We had all of our civilian witnesses in place, all telling the same story. Everyone on board killed, so we told them. Gave the press a list of all of your names, Morgan's among them. We have him stashed away safely under maximum security; our most trusted men are pumping him for every bit of information he can give us. Your 8 men are safe as well, Capt. Manoso. They're off the Delta Force and CIA records now, and _Operation Eagle Strike_ is officially listed as a failure. Our mole should feel secure. We've given your men new identities, and they are working as military security in the new building in the Rosslyn complex where the CIA has set up shop in the aftermath of the explosion."

"Any word yet on the whereabouts of Hawkins and Bell, Capt.?" Fitzgerald questioned.

"They are both alive and well. We've got an ETA for them," I reported, "According to our Intel, they left Canada yesterday and are due in here in Tikrit tomorrow morning, sometime after 11. Ali Mohammed al-Rashad came in earlier today. He's the one Al Qaeda is trusting to interrogate them. We've got an in to the cell that is hosting him, through Badr Udeen. Udeen's uncle has the right connections, and it's a big honor for him to be trusted to host this shindig."

"Udeen cooperating with you?" Rousche asked.

"Badr's a good guy; he's been very helpful, sir," I responded. "No complaints at all on this end."

"Good. We're hearing from your friends that his cousin Nabhan is equally helpful," he reported.

My other 3 men were bunking at Nabhan's similarly-configured house; they reported in once a day to DC, as well. Should anything happen to one team, the other team would--it was hoped--still have a safe-house from which to report. Double the security.

"I'm turning over the day-to-day business on this mission to Col. Striker," Rousche informed me. "He's your new contact. Gabe will have my ear. You tell him anything and everything, and he'll get word to me. I'm leaving him here in DC. I don't want to attract any attention by making too many visits here myself. Wouldn't be too smart, given the current climate."

"I understand, sir." Rousche was a very intelligent man, and we had to worry about the mole. "Any word on The Chameleon?"

"We're running him to ground," Fitzgerald assured me. "We've got a game-plan now. We are all on a need-to-know basis at the Agency: maximum security measures are in place until further notice. All the codes Hawkins and Bell designed have been changed, thanks to Morgan's Intel. We're still, of course, feeding misinformation to the enemy by using the old code for specific messages--so if Al Qaeda cracks Hawkins and Bell, they will be certain they have the real codes. That will be our back-up strategy."

"We are quite confident that our mole is CIA, not military." Striker interjected, "Only the CIA had access to the specific information needed to target Hawkins and Bell. And the DNA confirmation that both are dead came directly from the CIA."

"He's _our_ mistake, all right--and we'll find the bastard. Then we'll nail his ass to the wall for treason." I heard the fury in Fitzgerald's voice.

"We're clearing people slowly but surely," Rousche advised, "No one gets in on this mission until they've been vetted inside and out. James and Santos here are working with your re-assigned team on the hunt, as well. They'll be able to give you more details on the day to day business. But we're starting from the premise that the changed DNA records are the key to everything. We're tracking down every name with access to revise the data. The Chameleon didn't count on Morgan hearing what he did, and staying alive to tell you what he knew. We weren't supposed to know Hawkins and Bell were alive. That makes the DNA records wrong. So we trace who had access to those files, and clearance to change the data in them--and sooner or later, we'll find our mole."

It made sense. It might be the _only_ way to find The Chameleon, since according to Morgan, the mole hadn't turned for financial reasons. Still, I knew enough to bet that everyone's financial records were being carefully examined, as were passports and phone records. Computer records, too. Every possible lead was being followed, and eventually we'd track down our traitor. But it was up to me and my _Operation Eagle's Talon _team to get Hawkins and Bell out of enemy hands before they cracked.

"You comfortable with your new identities?" Striker asked.

"We're good with it," I responded, "We're used to being called by our Muslim names. It's habit for us now."

The cover story created for us was elaborate: it had been in the works for months. We were deep undercover. My passport named me as Marc Pardo, a 27 year old ex-felon from Fort Myers, Florida. The real Marc Pardo was dead, killed in a knife fight in prison last year. His identity had been co-opted by the government for just this purpose. He was "resurrected", given a release date from prison, and provided with the kind of detailed history that would pass even the most rigorous of background checks.

The proverbial bad apple, Pardo had been in trouble with the law since his early teens. He'd been arrested several times for various anti-government activities, and had finally ended up as a guest of the Federal Correction Institution in Coleman, Florida for blowing up an Army recruitment center in Tallahassee. Three people had been killed; six more had been injured. Pardo had converted to Islam while in prison, and had taken the Muslim name Hassaan Azzaam. Literally it meant "beautiful, determined and resolved". He'd been shanked in a knife fight with a KKK member who hadn't liked his politics. The KKK member had since died in retaliation. I figured they'd both gotten what was coming to them, and counted neither as a loss to humanity.

Bobby Brown had been given a new identity, as well. As Jamaal Abdullah, he'd supposedly met Marc Pardo in prison, and had befriended him and shown him the way to true faith. Thus Hassaan Azzaam had been born. Abdullah was Muslim from birth, and had impeccable credentials and a distant family connection to Badr Udeem on his mother's side. Supposedly, upon our mutual release from prison, Abdullah and I had declared war against the US government, and had eventually made our way to Takrit to meet up with Jamaal's relatives, the Udeens. We'd been accompanied by 3 of our now-Muslim revolutionary friends, and were all eager to lay down our lives for the glory of Al Qaeda.

With those Udeem connections, and the information we'd tortured out of the men who'd been holding Curt Morgan, we now had the knowledge we needed to make our way into the highest ranks of the enemy. Badr and Nabhan were sponsoring us; we'd met a number of the members of the cell and had been provisionally accepted as new members. Sure, we were under tight scrutiny. But we had backgrounds that we knew would pass the strictest test. And as Marc Pardo--now Hassaan Azzaam--I had that extra special something that made me irresistible to the cell: Pardo had family money. Lots of it. Or at least _my _Marc Pardo did.

Thanks to the genius who had created my after-prison life, I'd lived to inherit a small fortune from Pardo's father, who'd owned a chain of 99 cent stores in Florida. Marc had been the sole beneficiary of his father's Will, and the sale of the stores had given him a tidy profit that guaranteed that he was financially set for the rest of his life. This money was, of course, now to be devoted to the service of the revolution. Marc was a _very _popular guy with the locals, as expected.

I finished my report to Rousche, and he and Fitzgerald left the room. Col. Striker and I talked for a bit, and I liked the way he thought. We could work well together, and I had a solid feeling about him. I trusted my gut, and my gut was telling me he was a good guy. Striker turned the meeting over to Tank and Lester; and before long, with Striker now gone, I got some private time with my two friends.

I had plenty of questions to ask, but one in particular. "Did you talk to Stephanie?"

Tank's voice was reassuring. "Yeah, I called her the day the news of the crash hit. I told her you weren't on board, that you were safe and well, and that you sent her your love. She's fine, and she sends her love right back to you. In fact, her exact words were--and I quote--'_Tell him I love him. Tell him I love him more every day. And tell him to stay low and watch himself and not get shot_.'

My grin stretched ear-to-ear. "She's really something, isn't she?"

I picked up the St. Michael's medal Steph had given me, playing with it as I touched base with my friends. Because I was now supposed to be Muslim, the medal--like our dog-tags--was relegated to the safety of the secret room. So was the heart-felt letter that my Babe had written me, although I made it a practice to re-read it every day after I made my report.

"That woman's crazy in love with you, Superman. I got no doubts at all about that. We had a fine little chat, her and me. I told her we saw that YouTube video of hers. Man, was she surprised to find that out!"

"Tell him what else she said!" interrupted another familiar voice eagerly.

"Santos! How you been, bro?"

Lester's face appeared in the feed, pushing Tank out of the way.

"Will you sit the fuck down and shut up, Santos? I still out-rank your sorry ass here." Tank sounded more amused than irritated.

"Not by much, though," came Lester's confident reply.

There appeared to be a struggle for control of the webcam. Tank came out on top, not surprisingly. They didn't call him Tank for nothing!

"What did Steph say?" I pressed.

"She's got a new career. She's designing lingerie for her own company! Books/Plum Designs, they're called," Tank reported.

"Steph has her own _company_?" I was dumb-founded! "Are you sure?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely, Superman," Lester interjected. "And your lady's face is _everywhere--_in all the magazines from Vogue to Cosmo to In-Style. Just for starters."

"Since when do _you_ read those kinds of magazines, Santos?" I snorted. "And what the hell do you mean, Stephanie's _everywhere_? Is she posing in her company's damned lingerie?" I was _not_ pleased at the prospect of _my _woman showing her gorgeous body to every lowlife guy who could pick up a fucking magazine. Not that _I_ could do a damned thing about it now, stuck as I was in the middle of this hell-hole in Iraq.

"Keep your shirt on, Superman! She's not dressed inthe lingerie, she's just pictured in the ads, that's all. Perfectly respectable. Hot as hell though--she's a fine-looking woman, and that's no lie. Your buddy Santos here has been hitting every newsstand he can find looking for her on-going _Babe_ lingerie ad campaign." Tank laughed, "He's scanned the ads in for your enjoyment, grinning like the fool he is."

"I'm sending 6 of them to your private mailbox right now," Lester reported. "You owe me big-time for this--but then I have you and your lady to thank for finding me my future bride, so I guess we're even. I'll make it my duty to keep you informed of any and all future developments, Superman. Those pictures are _smoking_!"

I was still processing the latest Intel, my world rocked by the surprise. "She calls her lingerie line _Babe_?"

"Yeah, and apparently they had a really successful launch party recently that set the lingerie industry on its proverbial ear. She's a huge success, and according to the write-up in this month's Vogue, she's--and I quote--'a phenomenally talented designer who has an unlimited future ahead of her'. You got a message for your lady, Carlos?" Tank asked.

"Tell her I'm proud of her, that I knew she could fly. And that I can't wait to get back to her and start peeling that lingerie off her. And--_oh_--tell her that I love the name of her lingerie line. And that I love the woman who designs it." I felt tears of pride come to my eyes, and I physically ached because I was unable to hold Stephanie in my arms to congratulate her on her enormous success. She'd taken my challenge to fly and run with it, and was on her way to becoming the Wonder Woman I knew her to be!

"I'm writing your message down word for word, and I'll deliver it to Stephanie personally--along with the letter you wrote her--just as soon as they let us out from under house arrest," Tank promised me.

"Any idea when that will be?" I wondered.

"Probably in 3-4 days," came his quick reply, "I'm basing it on what Striker told us just before we stepped into the conference room. We're all still being debriefed on the Morgan raid. Then we're going to have a big pow-wow with the Spooks--whichever ones manage to survive the hunt for The Chameleon--and then Santos and I will find a few hours to fly down to Newark and meet your woman at the airport for a special delivery. I'll give her a call when we have a date set, and we can make the arrangements."

"I appreciate this more than I can say, Tank."

"No biggie, Carlos. You've saved my ass more times than I can count. And I know you'd do the same thing for me. Besides, I've got something big riding on this, too. Stephanie's promised to hook me up with one of her hot lingerie models."

I laughed heartily, "Is she running a match-making service there? She's already got Santos tagged for her girlfriend Tina! Now she's got _you_ lined up too?"

"Listen, I've seen her picture and Tina's. And I want me my own sexy red-hot woman. I figure _she's_ in the perfect position to find one for me: running a lingerie company and all. I ain't no dummie."

"No, Tank, my man, you're one of the smartest men I've ever met."

"That I am. How's Brown doing?" he questioned.

"You mean my good buddy Jamaal Abdullah? He's fine. He sends his regards."

"Back at him," came Tank's reply. "I do have another piece of news you probably aren't going to like very much."

"How bad is it?"

"Not very. But I'm telling you, so you're in the picture on what's happening at home."

"Is my family all right?"

"Yeah, man, they're all fine. But the thing is, when I called Stephanie to let her know you were all right, she asked if I was going to let your family know, too. She was worried that they'd be hurting over the news of the crash, not knowing if you were safe or not--"

"Typical Steph. She's got a really kind heart. What did you say?"

"What _could _I say, Carlos? I promised her I'd make the calls. I called your father--"

"Oh fuck!" I was _not_ a happy camper.

"Good thing I did, too. He had your brother and your cousin there in the room with him when I called, and they were all glued to CNN and thinking God knows what. And he said your Abuela Rosa had been in church lighting candles all day."

"Oh _double_ fuck!"

"I called _her_ too."

"Tank, you _didn't_!"

"What else could I do? I love that little old woman like she's my own grandmother! I couldn't _not _call her once he said that!"

"I've never told her that I'm in Delta Force."

"Well, guess what, Superman? She damned well already _knows_. That much is clear! You're the most important person in her world, and she was sick with worry thinking that you might be on that damned plane. So I just gave her a quick call and told her that you were safe, and that you sent your love. And I told her not to tell anyone. She thanked me a million times, and she sounded 10 years younger by the time we ended the call."

"Damn, I hate having her worried. But what's done is done, I guess. You did what you thought was best, making the calls. I trust your judgment, Tank, you know I do."

"But if Stephanie hadn't asked me to call---"

"You wouldn't have. I know. But that's the kind of woman she is. She thinks of other people and she wants to help them. It's one of the reasons I love her so much. Did you talk to Mateo?"

"No, just your father. But he said both Alex and Mateo were there with him. And he actually did sound really worried."

I shrugged dismissively, "Whatever. I guess if my ass gets fried in a plane crash, I can't work in the kitchen at _Rosa's _once I get out of the service. So naturally the old bastard would sound concerned." I sure couldn't imagine he gave a damn for any _other_ reason.

"Maybe things will all work out between you two," Tank said, hopefully.

"Maybe Bin Laden will call the President and invite him over for dinner. Not likely, though."

"Well, don't give up hope, is all. You never know what's going to happen in the future. It's a crazy ass world, Carlos. Anything is possible."

"I appreciate the thought behind this little pep-talk, Tank. I do. But _trust me_, no matter how crazy the world is, I know what _isn't_ possible. And my old man admitting he's wrong about me? That's _never_ gonna happen. Not if I live to be 100. I've accepted it. It doesn't even bother me anymore."

Or so I tried to tell myself.

"Well, if that's how you feel…." Tank let the sentence trail off, no doubt sorry he'd raised the subject in the first place.

"Anything else to report?"

"Nah, we're finished here. I'll give your message to your woman, and your letter. And Santos or I will stay in touch with her, as best we can."

"That takes a major load off my mind."

Lester interrupted, "Watch your ass over there, Superman. And enjoy your pictures."

"Will do, Santos, thanks. Keep your own ass out of trouble."

"That's no fun, man! Tell our buddy Jamaal to be careful. Talk to you tomorrow."

I ended the meeting, and immediately logged into my private mailbox to find out what the ads with Stephanie looked like. My ass would be grass if Uncle Sam ever found out I was using this laptop for personal reasons. But then, the mission would probably end up with me getting said ass shot all to living hell; so right about now, I was feeling like I'd more than earned the right to see my woman. Particularly if she was advertising her very own lingerie line, which she'd named in honor of my special nick-name for her.

Moments later I was staring, mesmerized, at 6 of the most beautiful photos I'd ever seen in my life. Well, okay, the one of Steph in my shirt and her thigh high boots ranked even higher in my estimation. But these 6 professionally taken photos were pretty damned hot, and I felt my cock hardening in appreciation. This was my woman! My Babe!

I read the tag lines on the ads: "Totally Dramatic"; "Totally Flirty"; "Totally Hot"; "Totally Sensual"; "Totally Spicy"; and "Totally Stylish". They were all that and more. The camera loved Stephanie, and I memorized each photo carefully. These were new treasures for me to keep in my mind's eye. New images of my woman for me to imprint in my mind, to store in my heart, to bring me comfort in the long trying days and nights ahead.

I pulled out the love contract Stephanie had written to me, and read it again. By now, I knew it by heart, but that didn't make its impact on me any less powerful now than when she'd signed it on that unforgettable night in early October.

I could hear her strong clear voice saying the words. I could picture her lovely face as she had looked trustingly into my eyes and had given me all of her love and her heart forever.

_My Beloved Ricardo Carlos Manoso_:

_Who would I be without you in my life? Without you, I can stand on my own. But with you by my side, I stand taller, more self-assured, with a deeper confidence in myself than I would ever have without your faith in me. Without you, I live and draw breath. I exist. But with you as my beloved, my life has deeper meaning, my years are filled with great joy, and my days have a true happiness such as I have never known. Without you, I am a good person. But with your love, I am better than I knew possible, and I am inspired to grow stronger and deeper and more caring each day. I did not know that I could love anyone this deeply; but now, with you in my life, I do not know how not__to love with all that I am. I cannot express how much I love you in only a few simple words. You are the sun in my days and the moon in my darkest nights. You are truth and beauty itself, and you give me a joy such as I have never known. I believe in you, I trust in you, and I have faith that you will always be there for me, as I will always be there for you. You are my hero, you are my lover, and you are my best friend. I pledge myself completely to you today and for all of my tomorrows. I will stand proudly by your side always, in times of joy and times of sorrow. I will try to always be understanding and forgiving, and ask the same of you in return. You are always in my thoughts and my dreams. I give myself to you and take you to myself as my one true love for as long as we both shall live. I will wait for you no matter how long it takes. Never give up, no matter how dark things are. Just follow the yellow brick road home to me, and let me take you into my arms so that we can start our new life together! I love you now and always. My commitment to you, and yours to me, binds us together and seals this document. _

_Your Ever-Faithful Babe,_

_Stephanie Michelle Plum_

_October 5, 2008_

By the time I finished reading, I had--as I always did--tears in my eyes. This woman loved me with a love so strong and so pure and so powerful that she had changed me forever. To her, I _was_ Superman. I was everything she'd ever wanted in a man, as she was everything I'd ever wanted in a woman. My Babe. My very own Wonder Woman.

I didn't deserve her, but I had her, and I wasn't letting go. I clutched the St. Michael's medal she'd given me in my hand, and said a heart-felt prayer to him to keep me and all of my men safe throughout the coming mission. I'd been doing a lot of praying since I'd met Stephanie. The future meant a lot more to me now than it ever had before. All because of a beautiful blue-eyed brunette with curly out-of-control hair, a killer body, and the ability to fill me with something I can only describe as absolute joy.

"55 nights down, Babe. Only 494 left to go." I said, softly. "Whatever it takes, Babe. I'm coming home to you."

I'd made that promise, and I intended to keep it. After all, I was Superman!

My heart suddenly lighter, I closed up the laptop, and stowed away the precious items once more. Then I headed out to meet "Jamaal". We had an important job to do today.

But tonight was going to be filled with some very special dreams. Totally Dramatic. Totally Flirty. Totally Hot. Totally Sensual. Totally Spicy. Totally Stylish.

Hmmm. Which Stephanie would share my dreams tonight?

I grinned. Damn! It was good to have choices!

And even better to have a woman who designed lingerie. Particularly when I seemed to be totally fixated on tearing it off her every chance I got…..


	83. Chapter 83

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. _

_This chapter (and future chapters) are not kind to Joe Morelli…be warned! Next chapter will be the confrontation with Mateo...._

**Chapter 83**

"Stephanie Michelle Plum, this is your mother speaking."

Oh crapola.

I rolled my eyes, silently cursed whatever deity had caused me to be sitting in my office Monday morning, minding my own business--literally--and therefore becoming a sitting duck to Ellen Plum's incessant naggings. Naggings I'd cleverly managed to avoid Saturday afternoon when I'd stopped in to visit my two nieces and my father only on the assurance that She Who Whines Constantly and her daughter She Who Sniffles and Has No Backbone were out grocery shopping. Well, today I was paying for that….

"Hi, Mom."

"Don't take that tone with me, Missy."

"What tone?" I said innocently, eagerly motioning in Tina, my Administrative Assistant, who'd arrived with a handful of advertising material.

"You know what tone I'm talking about," came my mother's voice, second in annoyance factor only to nails on a blackboard.

I chose to ignore that, sighing deeply, and hoping to move this conversation along and just cut to the chase. My mother hadn't been talking to me for _weeks_, after all--even on Thanksgiving. What the hell did she want with me _now_?

"What can I do for you, Mom?"

Tina sat down, stretched her long legs out, and raised her eyebrows in curiosity.

"Help me!" I mouthed desperately.

She just grinned.

Bitch.

"What can you do for me? What can you do for me?"

Oh shit, she was _really_ warming up here: this was going to be a real nuclear melt-down!

"Mom, I have a very important meeting in 5 minutes or so---"

Tina mouthed back, "What a liar!"

I decided she was _definitely_ getting a bad performance review after this. But since that wasn't for another 10 months or so, I was for the moment shit-out-of-luck. I shot her the Burg Girl Death Glare, and was annoyed to see it amused her even more than my phone call did.

My mother continued, still on a roll. "For once--just for _once_--Stephanie Michelle Plum, you could think about someone other than yourself. Like _me_, for example. Or your poor sister Valerie. Or your currently fatherless nieces Angie and Mary Alice."

"What's the matter with the girls? I just saw them Saturday afternoon, and they were fine."

"Fine? _Fine? _They're practically orphans!"

"_Orphans? _That would be if both parents were dead, Mom. Last I looked Valerie was very much alive, and so was Steve. Albeit alive and in someone else's bed."

"That is exactly the point, Missy. Steve is not where he is _supposed _to be. And Valerie is _devastated_, and so are Angie and Mary Alice. And _I_ seem to be the only one who is interested in finding out where he is and getting their family back together."

"Back together?" I howled in disbelief. "For cryin' out loud, Mom, the bastard _deserted _them! He screwed some young bimbo, and took off with all their money. Valerie and the girls are penniless. And now he and the teenage tramp are probably on some tropical beach drinking Mai-Tais and doing the nasty every time it takes their fancy. Why would Valerie even _want _the bastard back after that? And why as her mother--and the girls' grandmother--would _you_ even want her to take him back if he _did_ show up again? Let alone be _pushing_ her to take his sorry ass back. Which is no doubt what you're doing, so don't waste time denying it."

Tina snorted, and shook her head in disgust. Yep, she too had no doubts what Ellen Plum was up to.

"Why would I deny that? Stephanie, do you not understand _anything_? Steve is Valerie's _husband_! She took vows to him in front of the entire congregation, and I'm not going to apologize to you for expecting her to _keep_ them. Men do these kind of things every now and again, I've told you that before. They're overgrown boys, looking for attention. A _real _woman knows to overlook this kind of nonsense, and simply pay more attention to her duties as a wife."

I remembered her door being slammed in my face when I'd left Dickie Orr, and my voice hardened to steel. "You have _no idea _the damage you've done, do you, Mom? With your self-righteous clap-trap! Steve is a bastard, and Valerie and the girls are well rid of him. And if you're expecting _me_ to sit her down and tell her otherwise, you can just forget it."

Tina gave me two thumbs up, and then pumped her fist in enthusiastic support. Maybe she'd get that good performance review, after all….

"Expect _you_--of all people--to sit your sister down and tell her how to be a proper wife?" My mother's voice was two octaves higher in disbelief. "Certainly not! I expect you to keep your big mouth shut and your scandalous opinions to yourself, young lady! The _last _thing your poor sister needs right now is for _you_ to try to give her any kind of advice!"

"Advice like, get a lawyer? Get tested for sexually transmitted diseases? Like--oh, let's say--Herpes? Go to the bank and pull money out of the joint account--_months ago_--when the checks first mysteriously started to bounce and Mr. It Was A Mistake assured her he had it all covered? Is _that_ the kind of advice you don't want me to give my poor sister?"

I felt the steam pouring out of my ears, and no inclination at all to pull any punches. Nope, not me. _Not anymore._

"I want you to keep your distance from Valerie and the girls."

"Not happening, Mom. I'm not hiding my head in the sand--like you and Valerie are--and pretending Steve is just being a little naughty and will be back any day now to be a great husband and father now that he's gotten his rocks off with some nubile bimbo."

"I don't like your language, Missy."

"Then why did you call me?"

"I need you to do something to help your sister."

"She's not moving in with me."

"Certainly not! The _last_ thing in the world I'd want is for her to be in _your _house, listening to your horrible advice all hours of the day and night!"

"Good. Then we're agreed that's not going to happen. So what is it you want me to do?"

There was a long pause. Which told me that A, My mother knew I wasn't going to do it; and B, She knew she shouldn't even be asking me to in the first place.

"I have a meeting in 3 minutes, Mom…."

"_Fine! _I need you to go out with Joseph."

"_Excuse me?_" I opened my mouth so wide I was in serious danger of catching trout. "You want me to _date_ Joseph Morelli?"

Tina sat bolt upright in her chair, and almost knocked the pile of advertising material she'd delivered off my desk. Neither of us were anticipating this. How could we? We're not insane.

"Just go out with Joseph for dinner now and then," came my mother's unapologetic voice. "I'm not suggesting you have to go any further than that, under the circumstances."

"Oh, _that's_ not so bad then," I replied, sarcastically, "I don't have to have _sex_ with him. I just have to have _dinner _with him. Now and then. Under the circumstances. What circumstances would _that_ be, Mom? That I'm engagedto _Carlos_? That I'm in love with _Carlos_? That I can't stand Joe Morelli and wouldn't cross the street to pee on him if he were on fire?"

"You're making this whole thing very very unpleasant."

"_You think?_"

"It's the least you could do to help your sister and her poor children."

"And how--_pray tell_--would me sharing a meal with Joe Morelli help Val and her kids?"

"I called Joseph to ask him if he would use his police contacts to try to track Steve down."

"To haul him back to Val and the kids for the big family reunion you're planning, no doubt?"

"Joseph has a lot of sources at his disposal. He can be very helpful to your sister and the girls. If he chooses to use them."

"And--let me guess--he will _only _choose to use them if I agree to have dinner with him?"

"That was his condition."

"No."

"Stephanie--"

"Not gonna happen. No way, no how. Not for you. Not for Val. Not for Angie and Mary Alice. Not for all the tea in China. Not one date. Not one dinner. Not one cup of java. Not one nibble of meat loaf. No. End of story. Don't waste my time with this crap again."

"You're being _colossally_ selfish, as usual. I don't know why I expected you to act any differently."

"The guilt-trip won't work."

"Just because you made a mess of _your_ marriage to Dickie Orr, you want your poor _sister's_ marriage to Steve to end miserably, as well."

"I'm _glad_ I divorced Dickie Orr, it was one of the smartest moves I've ever made. No thanks to you. And the smartest thing Valerie could do would be to divorce that snake in the grass Steve. There is _no way _on God's green earth that I will do _anything_ to help you to get Steve back in Val's life. No way. And you can tell Joe Morelli that he can take his blackmail and go shove it where the sun don't shine."

"Stephanie--"

"Valerie needs to get herself a lawyer and file for divorce. And he or she can protect her financial rights, as well. The _lawyer_ will have methods to use to track down the lying cheating son-of-a-bitch. _Joe Morelli _doesn't have a damned thing to do with any of this. You need to drop this whole bad idea, Mom. And back the hell off and let Valerie wake up and smell the coffee and kick the loser out of her life for once and for all."

"You're just trying to make me miserable. Well, congratulations. It's working."

"It's not all about _you_, Mom. Not everything is, you know."

"I can't hold my head up in the Burg anymore. Both my girls have disgraced me."

"Disgraced you?"

"Why _me_? I did everything I possibly could to be a good mother to both of you…."

"I'm hanging up now, Mom."

"Joseph says you probably made up this Carlos person just to make him jealous."

"_What?_"

"There _is_ no Carlos at all, is there? This is just a ploy to get Joseph to notice you again! You've always had a thing for him, ever since you were a little girl. And Joseph says you've been sending him suggestive letters---"

"Joseph is out of his freakin' mind! Mom, I'm not writing _letters_ to Joe Morelli. Suggestive or otherwise. And Carlos is very real. And I'm engaged to him. _Carlos. _Not Joe."

"Then why are you flirting with _Joseph_?"

"_Flirting_ with Morelli? Is he _demented_? I'm _ignoring_ him. I've _been_ ignoring him for weeks and weeks. I'll go on ignoring him. Trust me, Joe Morelli is the very _last _man I'd be wasting my time with. And no matter _how _many times he just happens to turn up somewhere that I am, whether I'm visiting Mary Lou or Dad or Grandma, I'm not going to engage in conversation with him. So you can tell him _that_, when you two have your next little pow-wow. In fact, I'm seriously considering pressing stalking charges, now that I come to think of it."

"You wouldn't do that! I'd be _mortified_!"

"I'm supposed to be okay with being stalked, as long as you aren't embarrassed by it?"

My mother was _insane_. And the more that I thought about it, Morelli _had _been stalking me. I'd seen him more times in the last few weeks than could be explained away by sheer coincidence. And what the hell was he up to, telling my mother--and God knows who else--that I'd been writing 'suggestive' letters to him?

"Joseph is a very nice young man. He'd make a very nice husband. You could do a lot worse, you know. Angie Morelli and I both agree that you two would---"

"That _witch_? I'm not interested in what Angie Morelli thinks about _anything_. Let alone the possibility of having me as her daughter-in-law one day. Like The Twelfth Of Never. Now, seriously, Mom, this conversation is over. Permanently over."

"Why are you calling Joseph late at night, then? If you're not interested in him?"

"Calling _who_? _Morelli? _Morelli says I'm calling him late at night?"

Tina's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Joseph has been getting very strange calls in the wee hours of the night over the last few weeks."

"And he thinks it's _me_? _You_ think it's me? It's not. I've got much better things to do than waste my time making calls to Joe Morelli. If he's getting any calls at all, that is. I doubt it. He's probably making this whole damned thing up."

"He says a woman calls and tells him that Cupcakes aren't yummy if they aren't with him. And then when he tries to talk to you, you hang up on him."

"He's demented. Or drunk. Or both."

"Who else would be calling him talking about Cupcakes?"

"_Who? _Anyone trying to yank his chain, _that's_ who! Everyone knows he calls me Cupcake. And I can't _stand _that nick-name, which he _also_ knows. Look, once and for all: I'm not interested in Joseph Morelli in any way, shape or form. I wouldn't touch him if he were the last man on the planet. I'm in love with Carlos. Carlos is in love with me. Carlos is very real. And he and I are going to be married when he gets back from his tour of duty. In the meantime, I'm engaged to _him_, and I'm not dating Joe Morelli or anyone else. Or calling him and yapping about yummy cupcakes. Or writing suggestive letters to him. Or making deals with him to use--or _mis_use--his police sources to drag Steve's sorry pathetic ass back to Valerie and the girls to make their lives even _more _miserable than they already are. Is that clear enough for you?"

"I'm very disappointed in you."

"So what else is new?"

The phone slammed in my ear. I sighed, and set the receiver down none-too-gently. "That was the most _bizarre_ phone call I think I've ever had in my entire life."

"What a bitch your mother is." Tina shook her head. "What's all this shit about Morelli?"

"_Get this: _Morelli will help my mother find Steve's whereabouts--so he and Val can be reunited in matrimonial hell--on the condition that I _date_ the sorry son of a bitch. Joe, not Steve."

"Bullshit."

"That's exactly what _I _told her. And then she tells me that Morelli's been saying that I'm writing him suggestive letters--"

"_Suggestive_?" She snorted derisively. "Like _what_? 'Let's get naked, stud.' 'I'm engaged to a Cuban Sex God, but I still can't get _your_ sorry Italian ass out of my mind, so I want to do the horizontal boogie with you.' _That_ kind of suggestive?"

"Who the hell _knows_?" I rolled my eyes. "I didn't ask and she didn't say. Or he didn't. Whatever. Then she accuses me of making truly ridiculously bizarre phone calls to him late at night then hanging up on him."

"She thinks you're desperate enough--and _dumb enough_--to make hang-up calls to a _cop_ every night? And not get your calls traced back to you? She's lost it, big-time, Stevie. We're talking Shrink Intervention time, here."

"And guess what I'm supposed to have said? You'll _never_ guess in a million years!"

"Hit me, sista!"

I lowered my voice, wagged my eyebrows and intoned seriously, "Cupcakes are not yummy if they aren't with _you_, Joseph!"

Tina laughed so hard she damned near slid off the chair. "That's the best obscene phone call he can dream up? _Cupcakes aren't yummy if they aren't with you? _Omigod, that's too sad, it truly truly is! And this man has a gun??"

"I know, I know." I grinned, "Probably one of the guys at the station has his wife or his girlfriend doing it to get Morelli's blood pressure up. Maybe it's Carl Costanza? Or Eddie Gazzara? Both of them have that crazy kind of humor. And both of them know he's been hanging around me trying to make conversation--with no success."

"Again this weekend?"

"Yep. Saturday when I stopped to see my Dad and the girls, I ran into Morelli as I was leaving the house and getting into my car. And Sunday when Mary Lou and I stopped at Pino's for take-out, Morelli just managed to show up accidentally on-purpose and tried to chat me up in the parking lot. I told you: he's there every time I look around. I step foot in the Burg and suddenly I run into Joe Morelli, no matter who I'm with or how long I'm there."

"I don't like the sound of this, Stevie."

"I was ignoring him, but now I'm going to have to think of a new approach. I think he's making this shit up with the letters and the phone calls to get me to confront him. Any attention is better than no attention."

"Creepy."

"Tell me about it. Maybe I'll call Eddie or Carl and see what they have to say about it. There must be something I can do to stop it. But I'm sure as hell _not_ going to go to dinner with him as pay-back for him helping to track Steve down! Can you believe the _nerve_? He must be on drugs!"

"From what you and Mary Lou have always told me, the Morelli boys--Joe and Anthony both--never have lacked nerve, even when they were kids. And you _are_ a big catch, you know, Stevie. Especially now with all the publicity you've gotten with your new lingerie designs. I've got the new proofs for the ad campaign here, and they are sensational! The sales numbers will be through the roof. You've got tons of requests for interviews with the press, and you've got the London trip scheduled in two weeks. Not to mention you're absolutely gorgeous. So why _wouldn't _any man be dying to get you for his own? Morelli probably cooked this whole thing up to snap you up and get you off the market."

"I _am_ off the market. Did you hear what the bastard told my mother? That I made Carlos up! That he doesn't exist!"

"You've got _photos_ of him, for cryin' out loud! Of course Carlos exists! If your mother--or anyone else--is stupid enough to think that you invented a fiancée, for whatever the hell reason I don't know, and then _what_? Got some hot looking guy to pose for photos with you, just so he could pretend to be your lover? That's _insane_. What would be the point of it, anyway? To keep your whacko mother from hooking you up with some loser from the Burg? This gets loopier and loopier by the minute."

"After that phone call, I truly think I'm in the Twilight Zone."

"Forget about your mother. Forget about Joe Morelli. You told me Melinda sent you a picture of the dress uniform Carlos will be wearing in your wedding. I want to see it!!"

I grinned. There was nothing better to get thoughts of anyone else out of my mind than thinking of _Carlos_! Melinda had, indeed, sent me an email with the photo her Uncle John had found of some friends wearing the dress uniform. Unfortunately, the guys were old and less than hunky. But my mind could picture Carlos in that uniform on our wedding day--and he was definitely very very hunky.

"Oh God, you _have_ to see it!" I found the file and opened it, and Tina came around to examine the photo. "Well? What do you think?"

"I think your man is gonna look _stunning_, Stevie! And so is my Lester! _Yowza_!"

"I'm thinking now that instead of going with _red _dresses for the wedding party, I'm going to go with _blue_. Or maybe look at _gold?_ Put the flower girls in a white dress with a blue ribbon sash. Have the mothers in a light blue or a soft gold. But I see the whole thing a lot differently in my head now. And--_guess what_? My annulment came through!"

"It did?"

"Yeah, Mateo emailed this morning to let me know it's final. By the way--he's on for 2:30 this afternoon, and no interruptions! I mean _no interruptions_, Tina! No matter what!"

"Something happening I should know about, Stevie?"

"I have an important discussion I need to have with him, and I don't want to be distracted."

"Gotcha."

"Did you get the information I asked for on the ad release date?"

"Both ads come out December 5th. And I've already made the call to advertising: both advertising posters--Rosa and Teresa's--will be delivered to your office before the close of day today. Am I allowed to ask why you want them?"

"A favor for a friend: both women want to hold a party for their family and announce they're models. I promised to let them have the posters for the big unveiling."

"You want the other posters framed and hung as originally planned?"

"Yes. Everyone will get their own poster to hang in their office, and we can use the other posters around the building to promote the campaign."

"Gotcha. The meeting with Dawson this morning went well?"

"Sure did. I gave him another half dozen designs, and he absolutely loved all of them! He's putting them right into production, no changes at all."

"Fabulous! Especially that hot little barely-there black number. I've got my beady little eyes on that one for my first night with Lester."

"Uh….Tina? You haven't even met Lester yet. And you're planning what to wear on the first night you sleep with him?"

"It's official: I'm a ho."

"You're seriously horny, girl."

"I'm _always_ horny. Almost _never_ serious. And after looking at that hot hot smokin' photo of Lester, do you honestly have _any_ doubts at all that I'd want to sleep with him? _I_ sure don't."

"Okay, I admit it: he's hot. Not as hot as Carlos--"

"No one is."

"True. But he's definitely hot, all right. And he thinks you're hot too."

"He's got great taste."

"And you're modest, too."

"That's me: modest horny Tina. You up for a trip to _Pleasure Treasures _this week? I burnt out the motor to my vibrator, and I'm in desperate need for a new Mr. Buzzy."

"I could use a new one, too," I admitted sheepishly, "Too many nights until April 6, 2010, I'm afraid. I better pick up my single woman's survival kit."

"I'm thinking Wednesday night for a girls' night out? You, me and Mary Lou? A jaunt to _Pleasure Treasures_, then drinks and dinner?"

"Sounds good. I'll give her a call. Mind if we make it _Rosa's_? It's Alejandro's night as chef and I have some things I need to talk to him about. For the wedding."

"Sure, whatever. I like it there. Now that the annulment is final, are you kicking the wedding planning up a notch?"

"I'm definitely doing that. I've been sketching some wedding gowns and I think I'm pretty close to a decision on what I want. Dawson and I are going to talk about it later this week. I told you that he has some contacts he's going to use to get the dress made for me."

"He's looking especially chipper today. Did he just win the lottery or something?"

I grinned. "Or something. He's in love."

"Omigod! That's wonderful! No wonder he can't stop smiling! He's such a nice guy, I'm happy for him."

"Me too. He deserves to be happy. And he is. Very."

So was Rosa. According to Dawson, Rosa had come by his house after she'd left my townhouse on Friday. She'd told him everything, and as expected, Dawson had been very understanding about her decision to keep her identity as Carlos' abuela a secret. They'd had a long talk about their feelings, declared their love for each other, and were planning a future together. And Dawson was looking forward to the surprise dinner party where Rosa would introduce him to her family. I had a feeling there was something more he wasn't telling me…but hey, it wasn't my business, so I wasn't pressing him for details. I was just happy for both of them.

Tina checked her watch. "You need me for anything else before lunch? I was going to run out to the bank and stop at McDonald's for a burger. Want me to bring you something back?"

"No thanks, Tina. I'm going to have lunch with Keira, Joy and Kelly and do some girl-talk. Then I'm going to call Sacred Heart and see if I can line up a wedding date for me and the Cuban Sex God."

"June 2010?"

"That's the plan."

"Then your 2:30 with Mateo. Then you're free until 4, when you have that interview with Joanne Davis from _Allure_."

"I remember. It's going to be a busy afternoon. And an interesting one. More interesting for some people than others."

"I don't like that gleam in your eye, Stevie. What are you up to?"

I shrugged, thinking of my upcoming show-down with Mateo. After this shit with my mother and Joe Morelli, I wasn't in any mood to make nice with Mateo if he planned to stonewall me. He would either give me the truth--or I'd give him the boot. And as for Rico tonight…oh, was he going to be a _very_ unhappy man! _Call me Papa, my ass!_

"No worries, Tina. Your boss has things firmly in hand."

She examined me closely. "You're about to kick someone's ass, aren't you?"

I grinned. "No one who doesn't deserve an ass-whooping, I promise."

She pretended to consider the matter seriously. "In that case---_you go, girl_!" Then she gave me a saucy wink, and headed for the door.

The phone rang moments later.

"Steph? It's Melinda. I've got some news for you from my Uncle John."

"Hi, I was meaning to call you! Got the photo of the dress uniform. Thank your uncle for me, I really appreciate it!"

"No biggie. But that's not why I called. Remember you asked if he could find out the names of the Delta Force men on the plane that crashed?"

"Omigod! I forgot I asked! No, that's not necessary---"

"He made some calls, and asked around. Pulled some strings, asked for some favors. And he says he hit a brick wall. No one is talking about that plane crash, Steph. He usually has the connections to find things out pretty easily. But this time--nada."

"That's strange."

"Very strange. Uncle John was really pissed: he _hates _getting the run-around. And that's what he got all weekend. _Bad vibes_, he said. Every time he asked about that plane crash, he said whoever he talked to got really really quiet. Then they asked why he wanted to know."

"Did he tell them?"

"Uncle John? Hell, no! He _gets _information, he doesn't _give_ it away. And he didn't like the tone of the questions, he said. Like they were fishing for info from him. Or Intel, as he calls it. Anyway, he kept asking. And finally this morning just a few minutes ago he got the list of casualties from someone who owed him a huge favor. Like a life or death favor, he said. Except that the person who gave him the names in strictest confidence told him--_get this_--that the names were only 'for official purposes' and that he shouldn't put any stock in it. Whatever the hell _that _means."

"That makes no sense."

"That's what Uncle John said. He says the whole thing has a really bad stench to it, and that you need to be aware that the Intel is questionable."

"Okay…." I agreed.

Her tone changed. "The thing is…"

"Yeah?" I felt my stomach tighten.

There was a long silence.

" Steph? Maybe I should have waited until I could get back to town to tell you this in person, but…."

Melinda had the week off, visiting her pregnant sister-in-law in Boston.

"Tell me what, Melinda?"

"The name Ricardo Carlos Manoso is on that list, Steph."

"_What?_"

"The list of Delta Force casualties from the plane crash."

"That's impossible."

"I'm so sorry! I should have waited to tell you---"

"No, you don't understand, Melinda! I can't tell you how, but I know--I mean, really really _know_--that he's _alive_. Not the '_oh I'd know if he were dead_' kind of thing. I mean the '_yeah I saw him after the plane crash and he's fine and sends his love_' kind of thing. I can't say any more, but trust me, Carlos _isn't_ dead."

"Oh shit. This is creepy."

"Tell me about it. No wonder your uncle says the Intel is not reliable."

"Why would his name be on the list if he's alive?"

"Tell me something: do you have the list there?"

"Yeah, but Uncle John made me promise I'd delete it after I called you."

"I'm not asking you to forward it to me or anything. Just check for me. Two other names. Lester Santos. Pierre James. Are they on the list of casualties too?"

There was a long pause.

"Yep. Both of them. Confirmed dead."

"Holy fuckin' shit. This is really _beyond_ creepy, Melinda. Those two men are _alive_. I _know_ they're alive. I can't tell you anymore--I shouldn't have told you this much, and you absolutely can't tell _anyone_ about what I just said. Even your Uncle John. Promise me!"

"I promise." Melinda sounded dazed. I didn't blame her. "Uncle John told me to tell you to not ask any more questions about Ricardo Carlos Manoso or that plane crash. And he made me promise not to bring it up again. He says he didn't like the questions he was getting about why he wanted to know."

"Did you tell him Carlos and I are engaged? What exactly did you say?"

"Let me think. _No. _I just said you were worried about this guy you knew, and wondered if he were on the plane, since he was Delta Force. I didn't say anything more about him, just his name. And I didn't even give him your name, come to think of it. I just said I had a really good friend who I wanted to help, if I could."

"Well, let's _both_ forget all about it. You delete the list. You don't say anything more to your uncle about me or about Carlos. And I'll never mention it again."

"Oh shit! _Wait!_ I'm not thinking!" Melinda exclaimed, sharply. "Of course Uncle John would know you were engaged! He sent me the photo of the dress uniform when I asked earlier! Duh! Why else would I be asking for it, if not to know what your guy would be wearing to your wedding!"

"_Damn. _Okay. So your uncle knows. He won't tell anyone. Not that I can imagine anyone would care. But--"

"Yeah. I know. Creepy vibes. Best not to share any Intel. Trust me, I get it! In fact, you know what? This whole thing never happened. Uncle John doesn't rattle easily, and he was rattled about this. Something's fishy, Steph. Watch your step. Be very careful."

"You too. I'm sorry I got you into this, Melinda. And your uncle."

"We're adults, we can deal. Just let's all be very cautious from here on in. The odds of there being _three_ wrong names on that casualty list--and everyone getting so uptight when they're asked about the list--are not good. Delta Force is so top-secret that the U.S. government hasn't ever officially acknowledged that it exists. Not for nothing, but I don't want my phones tapped or men in trenchcoats following me on the streets because they think I have classified Intel."

"I hear you. I'm not looking to have my life turn into a Tom Clancy novel, thank you very much. We never had this discussion. This whole thing never happened."

"Agreed. Now I'm taking my hugely pregnant sister-in-law out to lunch and dropping the whole subject of you-know-what."

"Consider it dropped, Melinda. Have fun. Talk to you next week."

We ended the call, and I sat for a long time in silence. _What the hell was going on? _

According to Tank, Carlos was fine. Lester was too: I'd even seen photos of him and Tank. This was _after_ the plane crash. Therefore they were--all three of them--_alive_. No matter _what_ the government's list of casualties said. Okay, so I'd never met or spoken with Tank or Lester before that phone call on Friday. But Carlos had told me about Lester. So therefore Carlos _knew _Lester Santos. And Tank definitely knew Carlos! That message he'd delivered to me could _only _have come from Carlos: he called me Wonder Woman, and told me our date for April 6th, 2010 was still on. Why would Tank deliver a message from Carlos and send photos of himself and Lester--and ask for a hookup with one of my friends--if Carlos were dead? It made no sense.

I was giving myself a major headache. I recalled the phone call in minute detail. My spidey sense told me I had talked to the real Pierre James. And that I'd heard the real Lester Santos. And that the photos they'd sent were of themselves. _Duh! _Of course they were! They'd used their camera phone and sent the pics immediately. That was no trick.

And why would they _want_ to trick me, anyway? Why would they pretend to be Pierre James and Lester Santos if they _weren't_? And why would they deliver a message to me from Carlos that was--I knew--really _from_ Carlos? Why would someone pretend to be Carlos' friends and forward loving messages to me from him? They wouldn't. What would be the point, anyway?

Now my head _really _throbbed. Son of a bitch.

They called specifically to let me know that Carlos was not on the plane that crashed. _Okay, think, Stephanie! What does that tell you?_

That they thought I _would _think he was on that plane, _unless they told me otherwise_.

_Why would that be, Stephanie?_

Because….because they _knew_ his name would be on a list of casualties! _That's _why!

So why in the world would the government put three names of men who were alive on a list that was supposedly the names of the deceased victims of a plane crash? Then get really creepy about the list when Melinda's Uncle John asked about it?

This was sooooooooo not good.

Carlos was on a top-secret mission with a 90% fatality rate, he'd said. Were Tank and Lester also on that same mission?

_Think, Stephanie!_

What had Tank said? That they _all_ saw my You Tube video. Which meant that Carlos was _with _them _after _he'd left Newark. And he'd told me he was flying straight to join his team for his mission.

_Bingo! We have lift-off! _Tank and Lester were, I was now absolutely certain, part of Carlos' Delta Force team. And they were now back in the States. Not dead in some plane crash.

Which all begged the $24,000 question: _what the fuck was really going on here?_

Damned if I knew. But something was plenty rotten in Denmark, that much was obvious. And _Carlos_ was right in the middle of it. Which meant, of course, that no matter how much I wanted to let the whole thing drop and pretend it never happened…I _couldn't_.

I sighed deeply, and wiggled my left hand in the sunlight, contemplating the shimmering dance of the opals on my promise ring.

Today had to be one of the most _bizarre_ days ever. _The whole world was going crazy! _My mother. Joe Morelli. The U.S. government. What the hell was _I _going to do about it?

I checked my watch. It was time for lunch with Keira, Joy and Kelly. I'd push this craziness out of my head for an hour and see if I could bring something new to the table when I considered it all later today.

And then there was Mateo at 2:30. And Papa this evening.

Oh, yeah, this day was gonna be one for the books!

_Welcome to Bizzaro World, Stephanie Plum! You un-yummy Cupcake, you!_


	84. Chapter 84

_Somewhere in an A/U. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich; I'm just playing, not making any money on this project (sadly)._

_Babe story; HEA; smut alert and graphic language ahead, so be warned._

_If you'd like to view my This Never Happened Photo Album (updated frequently) and This Never Happened slideshows, just go to my Profile for the links. _

_This chapter (and future chapters) are not kind to Joe Morelli…be warned!_

Chapter 84

By the time Tina showed Mateo into my office for our scheduled 2:30 appointment, I'd gotten a lot of important things accomplished.

First and foremost, I now had a definite wedding date! At 11 am on June 5, 2010 in the Sacred Heart Cathedral Basilica in Newark, NJ, I would proudly become Mrs. Carlos Manoso. Or, technically, Mrs. _Ricardo_ Carlos Manoso Jr. Which reminded me of Rico--aka _Call Me Papa_--and made me even more determined to force the truth out of my future father-in-law later tonight.

To be completely honest, I wasn't quite sure _how_ I was going to do that: I was pretty much going to have to play it by ear. But I had a definite plan for getting _Mateo_ to confess. Yep. I was going to start with that Friday phone call he'd made to me, add a lot of attitude, and then hope that Mateo's innate honesty would result in him opening up finally and clearing the air between us. If that didn't work….well, I'd have to go to Plan B. Which was to hit him with the Burg Girl Death Glare and demand that he stop lying to me. Plan A seemed a lot more reasonable. Certainly a lot more polite.

I'd phoned Mary Lou, and recounted my bizarre phone call from my mother, winning tons of sympathy from my loyal friend. Then I'd gotten her delighted agreement to join Tina and me on Wednesday night for a girls' night out at _Pleasure Treasures _followed by drinks and dinner at _Rosa's_.

With my mother's call still fresh in my mind, I dialed my father and shared my displeasure at my mother and Angie Morelli's matchmaking scheme, and my mother's 'do it for Valerie' response to Morelli's attempt at blackmailing me into being his unwilling dinner companion. My father almost _never_ loses his temper, but he made a definite exception in this case. I didn't even know he _knew_ some of the words he came out with! But by the time the call ended, he'd guaranteed that my mother was going to be under no illusions at all that he was going to sit still for this kind of crap. And I suspected that he was going to pay a visit to a certain cop, as well….

On a roll, I'd also phoned Eddie Gazzara, who worked with Joe Morelli on the Chambersburg Police Force. Eddie had been a friend of mine since we shared lunches in St. Stephen's grammar school more years ago than I cared to count right now. He was family, considering he'd been married to my cousin Shirley The Whiner for almost a decade. For that alone, he deserved kudos: if you think Ellen Plum is whiny, she has nothing on Shirley, who is--I'm certain--an Olympic Gold Medalist in the sport. Just listening to her for 10 minutes is enough to make a sane person want to slit their wrists, and an _in_sane person want to pull out an Uzi and start firing. They had two kids, a boy and a girl. The girl was well on her way to becoming Shirley, Jr. The boy was looking more and more like he needed an Uzi desperately. Actually, I couldn't much blame him.

I trusted Eddie: I knew he would have my back and that I could get good advice from him. He listened in silence while I detailed my conversation with my mother; when he heard Morelli's "offer" he swore under his breath then sighed deeply.

"Shit! I'll talk to him before shift ends today. He could lose his badge for saying that kind of shit. Dumb ass. He was around you again this weekend, I suppose?"

I'd told both Eddie and his partner Carl Costanza about Morelli's previous 'just happened to be in the neighborhood' visits. Carl--nicknamed 'Big Dog'--was another former classmate of mine, and a close buddy of Gazzara's. Both guys were friends of mine.

"Yeah, both Saturday and Sunday. That makes it a clean sweep: every time I step my little tootsie into Chambersburg, I just so happen to run into Joe Morelli. Who finds it necessary to wander over and try to engage me in pointless conversation. It was annoying before, but now with this attempt at blackmail--and that's what it is--I'm beyond pissed, Eddie. Isn't this shit illegal?"

"Don't go there, please, Steph! I'll sort it out, okay? The Captain's already pissed enough at Joe because of the----_oh, fuck_. Me and my big mouth!"

"Oh fuck _what_?" I didn't like the sound of that. My antenna went up, and I wasn't letting the subject drop. "Eddie??"

"Damn! I didn't mean to mention it to you at all. It's only going to piss you off even more, after that call from your mother. Besides, Big Dog and I already got it shut down."

"I want to hear it, _whatever_ it is."

"Morelli's been mouthing off. About you."

"You mean these so-called suggestive notes I'm supposed to be writing to him? I didn't do it. I'm too busy having a life to waste any time on Morelli. If anyone's writing him at all. Which I strongly doubt."

"_What_ letters?" Eddie sounded puzzled. "What do you mean _suggestive_? _How_ suggestive?"

I filled him in on what my mother had told me. Then for good measure, I mentioned the '_Cupcakes are not yummy if they aren't with you_' late night hang-up phone calls Morelli was allegedly receiving. I denied making them, for the record.

"I don't know _anything_ about letters. Or phone calls, either."

"You sure about that?" I asked hopefully, "Cause I was kinda thinking maybe you or Big Dog might have been playing a prank on him?"

"Nope, sorry. I'll check with Costanza, but don't get your hopes up, Steph. Neither of us would risk fueling the fire, with Morelli the way he is right now."

"Okay, so I'm officially not liking the sound of this. What 'way he is' right now? Psychotic? Stalkerish? Do I need to file formal charges? Get a restraining order?"

"No, no! Cripes, no! That's _all _we'd need! No, I'll talk to him. Big Dog and I will ream his ass eight ways to Sunday. Just let it drop, okay?"

"I'm still waiting to hear what you didn't mean to tell me."

"I was hoping I'd sufficiently distracted you."

"Not a chance. Spill, or I'll make a few phone calls and find out myself. The Burg grapevine knows everything, remember?"

"Hopefully not this. Morelli made a bet with a few of the guys. Not me. Not Costanza."

"Okay, you two are innocent. So what kind of a bet?"

There was a long pause.

"About you."

"_Me? _What about me?"

"The shit hit the fan this morning. One of the rookies mentioned it to Big Dog, and he told me. And the Captain overheard."

"Overheard _what_? Are you going to tell me, or am I going to jump through this phone line and wrestle it out of you?"

"Morellibetsomeguysyou'dsleepwithhim."

"_What did you just say?_" I screamed.

"Morelli bet some guys you'd sleep with him."

"He's dead meat."

"Morelli's on report already, Steph. The Captain wasn't happy. You know he's a poker buddy of your father's. He called Joe into his office and made his displeasure known. The bet is officially closed."

"But the fucking nerve of the bastard!" I howled.

"Believe me, Costanza and I both gave him an earful already. But the thing is, Morelli's always betting on something. It's an ego thing with him. He's pretty much a horn-dog, and he's not exactly quiet about his conquests. If you get my meaning."

"I get it. Oh, trust me, I get it! Remember, _I_ was the one he wrote about on the wall of Mario's Sub Shop when I was 16!"

"And the men's room."

"_Excuse me?_"

"The men's room in Chambersburg High School. I know, I know. He's a real prick, and he's got a huge ego. He thinks he's the Burg's answer to Brad Pitt or something. Whatever. The point is, the Captain is gunning for his ass. And you going downtown to file stalking charges would be the icing on the cake, as far as the Captain is concerned. He'd bounce Morelli out on his ass in a nano-second."

"Tell me why that's a bad idea. Because I'm really not seeing it."

"Because Joe's a good cop. With a huge ego and a big mouth, true. But that's just his immaturity. He'll shut up and back off once Big Dog and I sit him down and give him the facts. Which are that he's got to steer clear of you from now on, or we'll turn on him."

"What if he _doesn't_?"

"You start a journal, okay? You jot down specific details of what he does, what he says, when you see him. In case it ever gets to court. Hopefully we can avoid that route. Because, I gotta tell you: it's in your best interests to keep this quiet too."

"What's _that _supposed to mean?"

"Don't bite my head off, Steph. I mean, you've got a successful business. You don't need the publicity of filing charges against a cop, a home-town boy, and accusing him of stalking you. Particularly if Morelli is actually getting hang up phone calls about Cupcakes and _your_ nickname just happens to _be_ Cupcake. And if he's really getting suggestive letters from whoever the hell. Because then he just claims they're from _you_, and the papers get ahold of it. And gossip starts. And then we have a grade A fucking mess. And _you're_ right in the middle of it. And you can't actually _prove_ he's stalking you. He just says he's running into you by chance. A happy coincidence. And you can't prove any different."

"This fucking _blows_, Eddie. And you know it."

"I do. I hear ya, Steph. The best way around it is for you to avoid speaking to Morelli. Let Costanza and I deal with him. We'll use the Captain's edict to help us out. Morelli will see the wisdom of letting this whole thing drop. You go on about your business, making tons of dinero and being famous. And your man gets back, you two love birds get married. And Morelli goes and bets about some _other_ poor chick, and we have a happy ending for everyone. _Capiche?_"

"All right. But if I hear about any more bets on who's sleeping with me or who isn't, I'm going to come downtown and stick my pointiest stilettos right up his arrogant Italian ass. And _you're_ going to look the other way when I do it. _Capiche?_"

Eddie laughed, "Honey, for _that_, I'd want a bird's eye view. Thanks, Steph. I'll get back to you first thing in the morning, okay? I've got dinner plans with Shirley's folks tonight."

"Lucky you."

"Yeah, I know. Life sucks, then you die, right?"

I was still steaming when Tina showed Mateo into my office 20 minutes later. She offered us both coffee, was politely refused, and then left us alone with a promise that we wouldn't be disturbed.

I took a deep breath, and gave a bright smile. _It was show-time!_ "Mateo! Good to see you! Come on in."

"I'm a few minutes early. I hope that isn't a problem for you." He shook my hand, and settled into a cozy chair.

"No, not at all. I've been looking forward to this for…some time." _That was an understatement!_

"Before we get started on whatever business opportunities you wanted to discuss, I have the annulment decree here for you." He snapped open his leather brief-case, and pulled out an impressive looking document. "It's official: your marriage to Dickie Orr never happened--legally _or_ in the eyes of the church. You're no longer a divorcee."

I gave the paper a quick look-see, and grinned. "_Hallelujah! _I feel like throwing a party to celebrate my new-found freedom! Not having any ties to Dickie Orr is a simply _fabulous_ feeling!"

"Having met the bastard, I can well imagine. Now you can start planning your wedding to Carlos, huh?" He crossed his leg and relaxed, with a happy smile on his face.

"Absolutely! In fact, after I got your email this morning, I called Sacred Heart Cathedral and booked a firm wedding date: June 5, 2010. Keep the date free!"

"Will do. I'm looking forward to seeing Carlos tie the knot. In his home parish, as well. And I wholly approve of his choice of brides, if I may say so."

"Thank you kindly. Although I'm afraid plans to hold the reception at _Rosa's_ are off. For obvious reasons."

There was a long pause, and I swear Mateo lost most of the color in his face, though he was doing his best to keep a poker face.

"Aren't you going to ask me why that is, Mateo? Shouldn't you at least play the game out and pretend to be honestly confused?"

"I _am _confused. Why have you changed your mind about _Rosa's_? I thought you and my uncle had it all planned? He's kept Saturdays in June 2010 free, he was only waiting for you to give him the definite date. I saw him this weekend; he never mentioned that you'd changed your mind."

"Oh, that's because your uncle doesn't know anything about my little change in plans. Yet. He'll find out tonight, when he comes over to my home to give me what he thinks is another cooking lesson."

"What he _thinks_ is a cooking lesson? Now I'm _really_ confused…"

"I doubt it. You're a very smart man, Mateo. Very smart. You do the math."

"Stephanie…."

"Would you say that being my attorney is a position of trust? Just as a general question. Yes or no?" I sat back, crossed my arms, and examined him closely.

He blinked, then swallowed carefully. "I've never abused your trust, Stephanie. I've never lied to you."

"A lie of omission is just as bad as an out-right lie."

"I have responsibilities to all of my clients. It's important to me to honor them. I could be disbarred if I violate attorney-client privilege."

I held his eyes for a long moment, then abruptly switched the subject. He looked vastly relieved. That's because he didn't know I was going for the coup de grace.

"It was good of you to call me on Friday when you saw the CNN report on the plane crash. I was worried sick Carlos was on that plane."

"I knew you would be. But as I told you, Carlos was safe. Nothing to worry about."

"_Probably _safe, you said. We still don't know for sure, do we?"

"But we do. I'm telling you now that he's _definitely _safe."

"For sure?"

"For sure."

"So that means that _you_ got a phone call too?"

"_Too? _You mean _you_ did as well?"

"I asked you first."

"Yes. I know of the phone call. I can't say anything more. But I don't understand? If _you _got a phone call too, why would you question whether or not Carlos is safe?"

"That wasn't the reason I mentioned it, Mateo. _Game over. _I know your little secret. _All_ of it. You see, the…_gentleman_…who called--who shall remain nameless--called _me_ first. _I_ was the one who asked if he would please call Carlos' family and give them the news. And he said he would. Carlos' _family_. Not his attorney. Or his best friend. His _family_."

There was a silence so profound you could hear a pin drop.

"So he called _Papa_, right? And Papa told you and Alex. I'm sorry. Not Alex--_Alejandro_. Gotta get the cast of characters down pat. After all, comes June 5, 2010, I'm going to join this family of liars."

"Stephanie--"

"How many liars _are_ there in your happy little family, anyway? You. Alejandro. Papa. Or should I call him _Rico_? Or wait, no, maybe I should start calling him _Ricardo_. And Carlos. Who set all the lies in motion because he didn't want to introduce his family to me."

"It wasn't like that."

"So maybe you'd better explain to me how exactly it _was_? Before I really lose my temper and toss this ring at you--Carlos' cousin--and tell _all _of the Manoso clan to go _fuck themselves_."

"This is not what it looks like, Stephanie. It wasn't supposed to go this far."

"Best laid plans, huh? Or best laid _lies_? I _trusted _you, Mateo. I asked you to be my attorney, and you accepted. And we developed what I thought was a friendship."

"It _is_ a friendship. That isn't a lie."

"I figured out that you'd lied to me--_another_ lie of omission--and that you weren't really in _Rosa's _that night by chance. That Carlos had asked you to come there specifically to meet me. To keep tabs on me afterwards. To spy on me, you could say."

"That wasn't what I was supposed to do. I told you--I was to watch your back for Carlos. Because he loves you. Because he couldn't be here to keep you safe."

"_Safe_? Safe from your _family_? They're so dangerous? _Whatever! _I forgave that first lie of yours. I believed that Carlos did what he did for a reason, and I got over feeling stupid. And used. And hurt. And I started trusting you again. And now--_now_ I find out that lie was the tip of a colossally huge iceberg! That for almost 2 months--_2 months, yet!_--you and Carlos' father and brother have been in my life. Day after day. Smiling at me all the while you were all _lying to my face_!"

"We didn't _want _to, Stephanie! None of us did. It just--it all went too far. And there was no way to pull back and start all over again. Not after that night at _Rosa's_. From that night on, we were all locked into a lie."

"Because of Carlos."

"Don't be angry at him. Please."

"I'm not _angry_ at him, Mateo. I'm _hurt _by him. There's a big difference. I trusted him absolutely. I didn't question anything he said or did. I just loved him. I still do. I'm just trying desperately to process this whole mess, Mateo! I'm questioning _myself_. My gut feelings. My spidey senses, as I call them. I trusted people who were lying to me, and I didn't tumble to it. Until now. Don't you think that makes me look like a real fool?"

"No, it just makes you an honest person who was caught up in something that she shouldn't have been. I'm so sorry."

Not _that_ honest, although Mateo didn't know it. I was venting my anger to him, but I wasn't about to spill Rosa's secret. Her involvement was something I was keeping to myself--and that was to my benefit. I had the _whole _truth from Rosa: now I would question all three men--Mateo, Ricardo, and Alejandro--and I would know if any of them were _still_ lying to me. For once, I was at an advantage. And I was going to play my hand perfectly.

"Don't be sorry, Mateo. Be _honest_. For once. Tell me what really happened. Why Carlos was so ashamed of me that he couldn't bring himself to introduce me to his family."

Okay, so I was milking it. I sniffed, blinking back imaginary tears, and gave Mateo my best little-girl-lost look. He fell for it like a ton of bricks.

"Carlos is _not _ashamed of you, Stephanie! Not at all! I'm going to tell you _all _of it--even the parts I shouldn't--because I need to make sure that you don't blame Carlos for _any_ of this. His motives were 100% pure, in all of it. That you have to believe! He loves you so much, you have no idea!"

I pretend-sniffled, keeping my eyes downcast and my ears wide open. "So why did he do it?"

"It was because of the damned Will. Carlos' new Will. You're the beneficiary. It's a long story--"

"I've got nowhere else to be."

"_Okay. _Here's the thing. I met Carlos in the hotel lobby on that Saturday morning. We talked, and he just was crazy in love with you. He showed me your picture--the one with the boots--and he told me he'd met the woman he wanted to marry. The only woman he'd ever wanted to make his wife. And he couldn't stop talking about you. I mean, my cousin was so in love, it was almost comical. Carlos is always in total control of his emotions, very cool and calm and collected….but not that day. Not talking about _you_. He was totally focused on protecting your interests while he was away overseas. He'd given me power-of-attorney, as was usual when he was going away on a mission, and I had some things for him to sign. Including a new Will. Because of the mission he was going on…"

"The one with the 90% fatality rate."

"Yeah. He told me then that he was changing the Will, naming you as his beneficiary. Same with his life insurance papers. He wanted it all to go to you, just in case he didn't make it back. We were on our way to his parents' house, for the family party to welcome him back. Except that he was going to have to tell them that he wasn't going to stay, he had to go right back out on a new mission. Anyway, I told him I'd make the changes to the Will using his father's computer, and we could print it out at the party. He wanted Ricardo and Alejandro to witness the Will. It was…critical to him that they do that."

"Why? Couldn't he get someone else to sign it?"

"No. Because---damn, this is _another_ thing I didn't want to mention."

"No more lies, Mateo."

"Fuck it. Okay. You get it all: if Carlos is pissed at me, this is all on him, anyway. 90% fatality. Carlos expected the Will would have to be used. That's all I'm saying about that. He knew that with the substantial sum of money his estate would total--money that his family didn't know he earned--that there was a good chance that his family would legally challenge the Will if it was left to some woman they'd never heard of."

"So it was the new Will that precipitated this whole thing?"

"Yeah. He called his father and brother into the library with me, and he told them about the mission, and about his decision to change his Will in your favor."

"And?"

"And all hell broke loose. As he expected it would. Not that Tio Ricardo--or Alejandro, either--have a clue how much money Carlos has. They don't. And he didn't tell them. He just told them that _you_ were his new beneficiary, and that if--_when_--he got back, he was going to _marry _you. He was clear on that. He wanted their promise not to contest the Will, and he was going to assure that by having them sign it as witnesses. To protect your interests, legally, the best way he knew how."

"Did they agree to sign?"

"Eventually. Look: Carlos probably told you all about his problems with his father. Tio Ricardo has a hell of a temper, and he let loose that afternoon. Things were said; Carlos almost walked out. But Alejandro and I calmed them both down, and they made a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

"Carlos wanted Tio Ricardo to sign as a witness. Tio Ricardo wanted to meet you first. Actually, both Alejandro and I wanted to meet you too. So it's not all on my uncle's back. That's not fair. Carlos told us he was taking you out to dinner Sunday, and that he'd bring you over to _Rosa's_. He wasn't going to introduce you to his family because he didn't want to put pressure on you."

"I don't understand."

"Here's the thing, Stephanie: if he'd introduced you to the family as the woman he loved, the woman he intended to marry, then he went off for the next 18 months and left you to their mercy…it wouldn't be pretty. For a lot of reasons. First, they'd want to know how you met. When you met. How long you'd dated."

"Picking me up in a hotel bar for a one night stand wouldn't win either of us any fans."

"Exactly. Especially with Carlos' mother and abuela. His _grandmother_, I mean. Not to mention, the older more conservative relatives we have. They'd be convinced you were some tramp who'd latched onto Carlos for money--"

"Gotcha. The Will. Not the best of potential daughter-in-laws. A money-hungry slut."

"Carlos didn't want you in the middle of that while he couldn't be here to defend you. He told us that he didn't want you exposed to questions or vetted for suitability. Which some of his sisters would do. Not that they're nosy or bossy….well, _yes_. Actually some of them _are_. And Tia Teresa and her sister--my mama--they'd be the same way. And forget it, _Abuela Rosa_? She'd be stuck to you like glue if she thought you were Carlos' woman. She…well, here's the thing: that old lady just worships the ground he walks on. Always has, since he was crawling around in diapers. To her, he's freaking Saint Carlito, a god among men."

I bit my lip to hide the grin. He sure had _that_ right!

"So, in essence, Carlos and his father made a deal. He'd deliver you to _Rosa's _Sunday, and his father and brother and I would get the chance to meet you ourselves. We just couldn't identify ourselves as his family. So you wouldn't feel obligated to stay in touch with us while he was gone."

"He didn't want me to be in contact with you while he was overseas?"

"No. He was thinking you'd feel duty-bound to keep his family company. He didn't want to put any pressure on you. He said he was sure it was the real thing with you two. That it would last. But he didn't want to tie you down to his family in case something happened."

"Like he died?"

"Yeah. Or in case you met someone else and changed your mind."

"He thought I was going to _dump_ him?"

"No, he said he knew you wouldn't. But he didn't want there to be any kind of pressure on you at all, Stephanie. He said your mother would be putting enough pressure on you. You didn't need any more, not because of him. Can you understand that?"

"Yeah. I can." And I could. Carlos knew what my relationship with my mother was. He had made crystal clear what he thought of her tactics, the constant guilt-trips she put on me. I knew that in his own way, he'd been trying to protect me from a guilt-trip coming from his own family.

"The thing is, Carlos knew that when we met you, we'd like you. No matter how you met. That we'd agree that you were perfect for him, and that we'd drop all protests against the two of you getting married once we'd actually _met _you. Which we did."

"And if Carlos _hadn't _agreed to bring me there? What then?"

"Then Tio Ricardo wouldn't have signed the Will. Probably Alejandro would have, though. For Carlos' sake. And we'd have had to find someone else to witness the Will."

"So you're saying, he blackmailed his own son?"

"Basically….yes."

"Some great father he is."

"They have real issues, Stephanie. Always have had. Probably always will--although I think Tio Ricardo is finally waking up to the damage he's done to their relationship for all these years. I've had some talks with him lately. See--here's the thing. He honestly believed that Carlos wouldn't have much money once he got out of the Army; that he was doing him a favor by pushing him into the family business. Like he did Alejandro. That he could share his financial success with _both_ his sons. Pass _Rosa's_ on to both of them, and then Carlos could afford to get married and have a family, like his brother does."

"But Carlos would never be happy working at _Rosa's_."

"You and I know it. So does the rest of the family. But not my uncle. He had this crazy idea that all Carlos would be able to do after he got out of the service was to be a security guard working in a bank or something. He honestly believed it."

"I can't see Carlos happy doing that, either. Taking orders from someone else, I mean. Once he's out of the military. He told me he wants to start his own security company with some of his friends from the service."

"He does. He's got me checking properties, and he's got the finances to afford it. But that's not the point. The point is, that Tio Ricardo honestly thought he was helping Carlos by encouraging him to work at _Rosa's_."

"You're actually _defending_ him?"

"I'm trying to be fair. Carlos and his father aren't on good terms. Carlos is convinced that his father loves Alejandro, but not him. Carlos says he isn't hurt by that, but it's a crock. I _know_ my cousin. He'd love to have his father's acceptance, but he's not going to kiss the old man's ass to get it. And he shouldn't have to. What my uncle did was wrong. But…just lately…I get the feeling that Tio Ricardo knows it. Finally. And wants to change things when Carlos gets back. And that would mean a lot to Carlos, and a lot to my family. Which is going to be _your_ family, comes June 5, 2010."

"So you're saying?"

"Don't give up on us, Stephanie. _Any_ of us. We're fucked up people, sometimes. No question about that. But when Carlos gets back…things could be _different_. Better. That's all I'm saying."

"I'm still pissed."

"I don't blame you."

"I _hate _being lied to, and played for a fool."

"I'm sorry."

"I love Carlos. That's the bottom line, Mateo. I trust him and so I have to trust that he loves me and that he knows his family and that he did what he did because he knew it was the best way to handle things with them. Whether or not I agree with it. I'm not saying that I'm not going to give him _major _grief for this once his butt is home safe…."

"I hear you."

"But I never had any intentions of throwing his ring back at you and telling him to fuck off."

"I knew that."

"Did you? Really?"

"That you'd stick with Carlos, no matter what? Absolutely. The rest of us, though? No, I was kinda worried about that whole fuck-off thing."

"Three strikes and you're out, you know that? You're getting forgiven twice. That's a big thing for me. Ask Dickie Orr. I can get real nasty when I'm played for a fool."

"I figured that out already. There never was any business opportunity you wanted to discuss with me today, was there?"

"Hell no. But I needed the weekend to calm down before I could face you. Otherwise it wouldn't have been pretty."

"You figured it out…_when_? Not just today when I tripped up about the phone call. So…when? What tipped you off?"

"My spidey sense told me. As for when….ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies."

"What are you going to do now?"

"What _specifically_ are you asking me? If I'm going to out myself to the whole Manoso clan? No. Carlos doesn't want his mother, his abuela or his sisters to know about me. So they _won't_. Not until he tells them himself."

"Just for the record: they'll be pissed at him, big-time. Even Abuela Rosa. That might be fun to watch, come to think of it."

"Alejandro I have no beef with. He didn't get in my face and lie to me. I've got plans to stop by _Rosa's_ on Wednesday night and have a little chat with my future brother-in-law. Just to tell him I know the whole thing. And to offer clemency for his part in this lie."

"Glad to hear it. Something's been bugging Alejandro for the last few weeks. He doesn't need more trouble in his life right about now."

"As for _Papa_….the little weasel."

"Tio Ricardo is coming to your house tonight to have a cooking lesson, you said?"

"So he thinks. I'm going to give him the same chance I gave you to come clean with me. He won't. We both know that. Then I'm going to go ballistic on his ass. Big-time. _He's _the only one I'm really finding it impossible to forgive in all this. For a number of reasons."

"Because he was the one who forced the deal?"

"The _blackmail_, you mean? Call it what it was. The man blackmailed his own son into coming to _Rosa's_ and then tried his best to push Carlos' buttons all night. He came over to the table and kept dropping these nasty little comments about having one son he was _proud_ of--Alejandro, our chef who was so successful and all wonderful--and having a second son that he was _ashamed_ of."

"He said that? Ashamed?" Mateo's face grew dark with anger.

"He sure as hell did! The bastard said it a few times. How his one son never came into his family restaurant and shamed his father and would never be the man his son the chef was. Etc. etc. etc."

"Son of a bitch."

"Don't insult Rosa. No, I'm really really _pissed_ just thinking about it, Mateo! He kept rubbing it in, watching Carlos and knowing he couldn't defend himself without outing the secret he wanted to keep! Then he _used_ me--or _tried_ to--thank God I didn't fall for it. But he kept asking me if I agreed with him that a son had a duty to his father to respect his dream. Crap like that. Over and over. The whole night long. He never let up once."

"Shit. Carlos didn't tell me any of that."

"And on Carlos' _last _night home, yet! On his way to a 90% fatality mission. He had to score on his son so badly that he risked that the last words his son would hear from him were that he was _ashamed _of him! I'll never forgive him for that. _Never_."

"Carlos kept his cool." It was a statement, not a question.

"He never said a word. Never let it get to him. But that's Carlos, right? He's in control. Always."

"Not always," Mateo smiled, "He was pretty damned goofy that Saturday when he dragged my poor ass around town from one store to another. Jeweler. Bakery. Florist. All those love notes he was writing to you, and all the instructions he gave as to what order they were to be delivered in. The man was crazy stupid in love, Stephanie. Then he called frantic from the hotel and told me he'd gotten your last name wrong, and I had to change the Will ASAP."

"Yeah, he thought I was Mazur, not Plum. Because of my grandmother…."

"The registered sex offender."

"He _told _you?"

"He laughed so hard I thought he was going to piss his pants. She sounds like a real character."

"She is. She's currently living in sin with a really sweet old guy named Wilbur. You met them briefly at the _Babe! _launch party."

"My wife Lucia warned both my uncle and me not to lie to you that night. She told us we were going to be damned good and sorry."

"I'd like to meet her."

"She'd like to meet you, too--now that she won't be pulled into this whole lie. I take it, you want me to keep my mouth shut and let Tio Ricardo and Alejandro hear about all this from you?"

"Absolutely."

"That's fine with me. I want to stay out of this, as much as I can. But my uncle and I are going to have words, for damned sure. I didn't know this shit he pulled on Carlos that night. Neither did Alejandro. There'll be a long line to kick his ass…."

"_I'm_ first, though. And after the day I've had, I'm primed to make it a real blow-out."

"Something wrong?"

"My mother is insane. My sister is an idiot. And I am probably being stalked by a pathetic loser of a cop. Your general _this-is-your-sucky-life, Stephanie _kind of thing."

"Stalked? By a cop?"

I recounted my bizarre conversation with my mother, including the 'suggestive letters' and hang-up calls Joe Morelli was allegedly receiving from me, and then went on to report my all-too-frequent encounters with said Morelli. Starting from the evening my mother had surprised me with Morelli as a dinner guest, including his appearance at Halloween when my car had died, through to the encounters over the weekend. I then explained my conversation with Eddie Gazzara, and the new log I was now keeping in case the situation got ugly.

"But Eddie and his partner Carl are going to try to talk to Morelli this afternoon. So hopefully he'll just get the message that, my mother and his mother's matchmaking efforts aside, I'm not interested in him as a boyfriend, casual dinner companion or anything else."

"I don't like the sound of this."

"Me either. I think I told you once about Morelli. That he was my first, I mean." I gave him a brief summary of my history with Morelli. "And I'm sure as hell _not _writing him letters or making calls to him. It's not me. If _anyone_ is, that is. Who knows if he's making it up or not. I thought maybe one of his cop friends was pulling his leg. But Eddie says he and Carl aren't involved. So like I said, Eddie told me to keep a journal of my little run-ins with Morelli, and to avoid him as much as possible. And he'll have a long talk with him and tell him that I'm not interested and that I'm annoyed enough to pursue stalking charges if he doesn't stay out of my face."

"That's a difficult road to take. Particularly if your mother is going to try to push you two together every chance she gets."

"Yeah. She and I aren't speaking right now. After today's phone call. So I'm not planning any more dinners over at the Plum house. I called my Dad and let him know what's happening. He'll hopefully talk some sense into her."

"Well, I'm here for you, Stephanie. Keep me in the loop on this. You have legal options. A restraining order, if you feel he's dangerous. Or if you prefer, I could make some phone calls. I do know the Mayor.…"

"I don't think I need that right now, thanks, Mateo. Eddie should be able to get through to Morelli, and my Dad should be able to put a halt to my mother's matchmaking efforts. But I will definitely keep you informed."

"Carlos asked me to watch out for you. And I will."

"It's good to know. Speaking of--do you know any good divorce lawyers in Chambersburg? I want to convince my sister to file for divorce and hopefully she can get back at least half of the money that her sleazebag husband ran off with."

"In Chambersburg? I'll get you a name later this afternoon. But I do know someone in Newark--Jocelyn Peters with Hartwell, Peters and Brooke--who's excellent. You might want to have your sister see her. She's got a great reputation for kicking ass and taking no prisoners where cheating husbands and absentee fathers are concerned."

"Newark, huh? Maybe that's best. That way my mother's gossipy friends won't know anything about Val's plans. In the Burg, someone always knows someone in the office, and your business is all over town before you've even left the building. I think maybe it would be a good idea after all to get a lawyer who _isn't_ in the Burg…."

Mateo nodded, then scribbled her name and number down on one of his business cards and handed it to me. "Give this to your sister, and tell her to use my name to Jocelyn. She owes me a few favors, and I'd like to help your sister for your sake. Particularly since you've decided not to kick my ass for lying to you. Even by omission."

"Your uncle is not going to be a very happy man after I get through with him."

"Well, once Carlos gets home and hears about his father dropping by weekly to give you cooking lessons, and planning his wedding reception with you at _Rosa's_, good old Tio Ricardo is going to be even _more_ unhappy. That's for damned sure."

"When I think of how I trusted that old man….I get steam pouring out of my ears. The things I told him, the confidences I shared with him. And he just did his little _Call Me Papa_ routine and never let on once that _he_ was the father Carlos was having trouble with. He just nodded and patted me on the back and told me it would all work out when Carlos got home."

"Because I honestly think he plans to hold out the olive branch to Carlos. Finally."

"All the while knowing Carlos would hate--absolutely _hate_--having our wedding reception at the restaurant his father has beaten him with a stick with for all those years!"

"Yeah." Mateo groaned, "Carlos is not going to be happy about _that_."

"Well, it's not an issue anymore. I'm changing my plans. Like I said. Papa is not going to be a happy camper tonight. I've decided to find another venue to host the reception. I'm going to start making my plans now that I've got the definite date to work with. I'm thinking of booking the clubhouse where we held the _Babe! _launch party."

"Tio Ricardo will be crushed. Actually--so will the rest of the family. _Rosa's_ is a Manoso family tradition. All Carlos' siblings--and mine--had our wedding receptions there. As well as Manoso family christening parties, anniversaries, engagement parties….everything. But they'll understand why it's not possible for Carlos and you to do it."

"I hate having to change my plans. I _loved_ the idea of holding it there, to tell you the truth. I know Carlos' memories are bad, but I just remember the night he and I spent there, and it was _wonderful_. Our first dance. Our first dinner date. If you don't count having room service at the hotel. Which I don't. Not really. But it's Carlos' wedding too. I picked _Rosa's_ because I thought it was his favorite restaurant, since that's where he took me for dinner. And he said Papa knew him since he was a baby. And it was named after Rosa, and God--how freaked out did he get when _she_ saw us in the parking lot! _Oh shit! _Forget I said _any _of that, okay?"

I blushed beet red, realizing that Mateo hadn't heard that part of the story, and not wanting to share it. I mean, having hot sex in a public parking lot is not something I wanted to share with my attorney--especially since I hadn't gotten arrested for it and thus it wasn't need-to-know information.

Mateo laughed heartily. "Um, Stephanie? Your secret is safe with me."

"He _told _you? I'm so going to kick his fine Cuban ass!"

"He was worried that Abuela Rosa was going to be asking questions about you. He wanted me to make sure I said nothing to her that would give your identity away."

"Really?" I grinned to myself. Little did he know that Rosa had made it her business to be there that night, and had gotten all her answers long since!

"No one told Abuela Rosa _anything_. We've all been very careful about protecting your privacy."

"She's _that _determined, huh?"

"She's a little Cuban pit-bull where her precious Carlito is concerned. Carlos knows it, and he was just making sure I had your back, and his."

"She sounds like quite a character."

"She's very formidable. Very Old World. Speaks only Spanish. She will definitely not understand meeting in a bar for a one night stand, so you'll need a new cover story. But don't worry: Carlos will be by your side when you finally meet her. As long as she sees that he loves you, and you make him happy, you'll be fine."

"What about the rest of the family I haven't met? His mother? His sisters?"

"They want Carlos to be happy. He hasn't shown any interest in wedding bells and settling down thus far; once he does, they'll be all over both of you, asking questions. Wondering what makes _you_ so special. How you managed to get past his reserve and got him to want to leave the Army when he was so dedicated to that life that they could see him as a career Army man. Wanting to know if you're pregnant already, and how soon they can be welcoming little Manosos into the family."

"Sounds like a real three-ring circus."

"That's why Carlos wanted to keep you protected while he wasn't here. He told me he was afraid they'd scare you away."

"He said that?"

"Yeah, he did. He had this nightmare of you being dragged home for dinner weekly and interrogated within an inch of your life, and he wanted to spare you the craziness until he could be with you. It wasn't ever about being ashamed of you, Stephanie. No matter how you two met. It just wasn't."

"I know," I said softly. And I did: this matched exactly what Rosa had already told me. Mateo was being completely honest with me, and it was good to know it.

"Are we okay now? You and me?"

I nodded, "We're good. As long as you aren't keeping another secret from me. I meant what I said: three strikes and you're out."

"I heard you," he agreed, "I like you, Steph. Apart from you being the woman my cousin loves more than life. You've got my loyalty 100%. I've got your back, always. I'll give you my promise to be completely truthful from now on. And you can count on me if you need help with your sister's divorce, or your cop stalker, or my uncle the horse's ass. You're family now, and actually, I'm glad the secret is out. Especially since it's _Tio Ricardo's _ass you're planning to kick, not _mine_. Remember: you need me, you call me. Anytime."

"I will," I said, giving him a big smile. "Tell Lucia I'd like to have the two of you over for dinner very soon. Now that I can actually cook something that won't poison any of us."

"I'll do that," Mateo laughed, "She'll be looking forward to it, as will I. Meantime--good luck tonight."

"_I'm_ not the one who's going to need the luck," I said confidently. "It's your uncle Ricardo who's going to be facing the wrath of Hurricane Stephanie. And trust me--he's not going to enjoy the experience."

Mateo gave me a hearty laugh and two enthusiastic thumbs-up. Then he disappeared out the door, leaving me to contemplate my approach to Ricardo tonight.

I had a feeling his uncle would be anything but honest. But now I would be ready for him, with Rosa and Mateo behind me. _Call Me Papa _didn't stand a chance! I was going to kick Rico's lying ass!

Checking my watch, I realized I had just enough time to grab a quick cup of coffee and then repair my makeup before my interview with the reporter from _Allure_ magazine. Trying to put Rico's lying and Morelli's insulting bet out of my mind, I got down to business!


End file.
